


Boys Don't Cry

by sabby1



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Human, Cliques, Drugs, Exams, Fights, Friendship, Love, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Parties, Religion, Sexuality, shitty parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 172,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabby1/pseuds/sabby1
Summary: Alicante Academy was an amalgamation of every fancy boarding school shown in movies and on television. The buildings were red brick, the lawns were immaculate Kentucky green, and the uniforms were plagiarized from much older schools in much older countries. The dark gray commemorative plate near the entrance proclaimed the institution’s establishment in 1872.After his family's unexpected death, Raphael was sent here by his estranged Aunt Camille. Depressed, and lost without his best friend, Lily, he quickly gets sucked into the orbit of the strangest person he has ever met; a boy so vibrant, insouciant, and fearlessly sensual, he defies description: Magnus Bane.Magnus sticks to him like glitter glue and drags him into a messed up world filled with Magnus's best friend, Catarina Loss (the shiny paper to his glitter glue), her adorable pet-project Simon, and, like it or not, the "eminent eight" of Alicante whose family names litter the buildings all over the school's extensive grounds.Among the eight is Alexander Lightwood, a boy so badly messed up, maybe even Magnus can't fix him. Too bad for Magnus, he's gone and fallen in love with the guy.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lerry_Hazel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerry_Hazel/gifts).

> This is a boarding school AU in response to a plot-bunny/backstory idea posted by Lerry_Hazel on her [LiveJournal.](https://lerry-hazel.livejournal.com/#item13561)
> 
> From the moment I read it, it's been stuck in my head, even while I was writing on other stories. I don't know exactly where this is going, but for now I'm along for the ride. Perspectives will shift from chapter to chapter, so we get into each boy's head. The two main pairings get equal screen time. 
> 
> New chapter each Saturday. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.
> 
> ###### 

_If one more person tells me to be strong, I will explode. _

Raphael closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the sound of people talking in low voices and the string quartet playing somber music in the corner go to white noise in his ears.

If his best friend, Lily, had been here, she would have made him sneak out through the open French doors into the fancy backyard filled with fake Greek statues.

But Lily wasn’t here. She was about two hours down I-95, back in New York, probably thinking it was her fault when it was really Raphael’s.

He should have been there. They should have all been there. New York was where his family had lived. It was where they had died. It was where this reception should be; not in some fancy funeral home in Connecticut, pretending to mourn over empty caskets.

Unfortunately, Raphael was only sixteen, so, despite being the sole heir to a moderate fortune, he had no actual control over anything. For two more years, his fortune and his fate were in the hands of Camille Belcourt.

Don’t-call-me-Aunt Camille.

Raphael could count the number of times he had met the woman on one hand with fingers to spare. His father’s sister was not a pleasant person. She was a stone-cold bitch who’d do anything, sacrifice anyone, to gain money and power. Those were his father’s words, not Raphael’s.

For all their prudence and business savvy, his parents had made a huge mistake with their will. They had never named a guardian for their children in case anything happened to them before the oldest turned 18. Then again, it wouldn’t have mattered if Raphael had been at home that night where he was supposed to be.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ignore the hot itch building up behind his eyes.

“Raphael!”

The voice cut like a butcher knife in careless hands. Camille snapped her fingers once in his direction and waved him over.

He suppressed a shudder and joined her, flinched when her bony hand landed on his shoulder and dug pointy carmine nails into the sensitive spot at is collarbone.

“This is my nephew, Raphael Santiago,” she said. “I’ll be taking care of him now.”

Raphael cringed. Camille made him sound like a pet or a houseplant that had fallen into her hands because her brother had left on an unexpected trip.

“I’ll try not to be a nuisance,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Her nails dug deeper into his shoulder, a warning. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man in front of them smiled in a slippery way that didn’t reach his eyes. The power tie around his thick neck reminded Raphael of the one he had stared at two days ago, sitting across the table from the corporate lawyer who had laid out the provisions of his parents’ estate like a text-to-speech program reading terms of service.

“It must be a relief for him to be able to stay with family,” the man said to Camille in a tone more slippery than his smile. “And how selfless of you, especially so soon after--”

“Oh, I try not to think about it.” Camille waved off her fourth husband’s death like a minor inconvenience. “All that matters now is that I’m here for Raphael. And I promise I’ll continue to be here for Ragnor’s constituents, well, my constituents now, I suppose.”

The rest of the reception passed in a blur. Raphael did what he was told, stood where he was the least visible, and remained silent during the long limousine ride to Camille’s estate while she talked non-stop business and politics into the silver Bluetooth nestled in her ear.

When the enormous oak doors of the main entrance banged shut behind him, Raphael stood in the middle of a gaping foyer with an unfamiliar suitcase full of brand-new clothes at his feet.

“Don’t bother unpacking.” Camille was halfway up the marble staircase, her stiletto heels beating the soft stone like hammer blows. “I’ve enrolled you at Alicante Academy. You’re leaving tomorrow morning.”


	2. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the prelude is awfully short, I figured I'd throw out the first chapter along with it.
> 
> ###### 

Alicante Academy was an amalgamation of every fancy boarding school shown in movies and on television. The buildings were red brick, the lawns were immaculate Kentucky green, and the uniforms were plagiarized from much older schools in much older countries. The dark gray commemorative plate near the entrance proclaimed the institution’s establishment in 1872.

Raphael found his own way to the Administrative Building, accepted a thick stack of paperwork from the woman behind the counter, and followed a senior student named Underhill along winding, gravel pathways to his designated dorm building.

“That’s the Science Building,” Underhill said, gesturing to a wide, rectangular box with polarized windows. “You’ll be spending at least half your class hours in there, so try to memorize the floor plan as soon as you can.” His long, pale arm swung in the opposite direction. “Gym’s over there: workout room, Olympic pool, and three halls for indoor activities like tennis, basketball, soccer, archery, kendo, what-have-you. Outdoor courts, track and field, and shooting ranges are behind the chapel on the back forty with the horse stables.”

_Because of course they have horse stables. _

Raphael rolled his eyes. He trailed after Underhill who rattled off more orientation stuff, moving rapidly past three or four other buildings before they arrived at the dormitory.

“This is Blackthorn Hall, your home for the next two years.” 

The building was not what Raphael had expected. It was an old two-story Tudor, whimsical chimneys and all. Triangular gables protruded from the length of the steeply pitched roof, framing diamond-grill casement windows. Craftsman timber on top of old-world masonry.

Raphael wanted to puke. Everything about the place was anathema to him.

“You’ll get used to it,” Underhill said as if he’d read his mind.

His room on the second floor was little more than a shoe box with a twin bed, a desk, and a window.

“We don’t do roommates at Alicante,” Underhill explained, “but that means some of the rooms are pretty small, and naturally, seniors get first choice.”

“It’s fine.”

Raphael wasn’t even lying. He couldn’t care less if they stuck him in a coffin and buried him alive.

“Right-o.” Underhill shot him a funny look, but at least he didn’t pry. “Dinner starts at six. Mess hall’s in the Lightwood Building. Don’t be late.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Raphael alone with his thoughts. He pulled out his phone. No messages. It was 4:48 pm. He didn’t remember what being hungry felt like.

With no interest in anything, and nothing but meaningless time stretching ahead of him, Raphael dropped the suitcase on the bed and walked away.

“Hey, are you the new guy?”

He fled from the unpleasantly chipper voice behind him, and burst through the pressed wood front door with its fake iron hinges, no idea where to go except out.

The gravel pathways extended across the grounds. Raphael followed them for lack of any other kind of direction. The next time he looked up from his feet, he was standing in front of the chapel Underhill had mentioned earlier.

It was a small stone building with stained glass windows, a single steeple, and an old copper weather-vane with a bright green patina at the top of its shingled spire. The door at the entrance was thick, actual wood. Dark brown and weathered, it smelled like moss and furniture polish, and the black iron bar handle was worn to a smooth gray shine where people’s hands had grasped it a million times.

Raphael curled his fingers around the handle and pulled. The door was heavy. It felt solid and real like nothing else had in days.

The church was quiet. His footsteps echoed on the stone floors and the pew creaked in protest when he sat down, halfway between the entrance and the altar. He wasn’t ready to go up there and kneel. He wasn’t ready to talk.

So, he sat quietly and looked at the familiar surroundings and tried to remember all the times his father had taken them to Sunday mass. Raphael didn’t remember the first time, of course, because he’d been going from birth. 

This was the type of church where they should have held the funeral service. Camille hadn’t even allowed them that dignity. Instead, she’d arranged for a non-denominational service at the funeral home in Connecticut, right next to a bland, beige room with empty caskets.

His family’s remains had been cremated within twenty-four hours of arriving at the New York City morgue. A clerical error. Bile rose in Raphael’s throat every time he thought about it. His parents and siblings were dead, burned, gone.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.

He should be with them.

A heavy hand on his shoulder jolted him awake. Raphael had no idea when he had fallen asleep or what time it was. He looked up into the concerned face of the priest who had woken him.

The man was in his thirties. His tight black curls were shorn close to his head and the lower half of his light brown face was covered by a neatly trimmed beard. His bushy brows furrowed, but there was a gentle smile on his wide lips.

“I’m sorry to disturb your sleep, son, but I have to lock up for the night.”

“What time is it?” Raphael asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Nine-thirty,” the father said.

Raphael’s eyes were wide open. He had slept clear through dinner. 

“I’m afraid it’s past curfew.” The father stepped back, allowing him to scramble out of the pew.

“I’m sorry, Father,” he said honestly. “I have no idea how this happened.”

“It’s all right. We all take comfort in the Lord’s presence.”

“Yeah.” Raphael swallowed uncomfortably, acutely aware that he had never said a word to God the whole time he’d been here.

“Why don’t I take you back to your dorm?” the father offered, motioning toward the door. “I might be able to negotiate some leniency from your Residential Head.”

“I couldn’t…” Raphael didn’t deserve leniency, definitely not at the expense of someone else.

“Nonsense.” The father placed a hand on his shoulder and ushered him out the door. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t make sure you get back safe.” He paused as if something had just occurred to him. “This is the first time I’ve seen you. You must be a new student. What’s your name?”

“Raphael Santiago, Father.”

“Raphael,” the father repeated his name with a smile. “The healer.” He locked the door to the church behind them and guided Raphael onto the gravel path that led back to the main building complex. “My name is Victor Aldertree. I’m the school chaplain.”

They walked in silence back to Blackthorn House, and Raphael was relieved that Father Aldertree didn’t ask him any questions.

The head of Raphael’s dorm was Iris Rouse, a pale, narrow-faced woman with a long nose, thin lips, and a sharp tongue. She was not impressed by his chaperone.

“I don’t care if he’s out feeding the homeless or converting people to your cause. Curfew is at 9 pm.” Her gaze moved sharply from Father Aldertree to Raphael. “That’s one demerit.”

“Actually,” said Father Aldertree smoothly, “curfew can be extended under special circumstances with permission from a member of the faculty. I have enlisted Raphael to help clean the chapel before closing.”

Raphael snapped his head around to look at Father Aldteree, shame slithering down the nape of his neck. The priest had just lied on his behalf. He opened his mouth to protest, but the father cut him off with a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Raphael will be needed between the hours of 8:30 and 9:30 pm, Monday through Saturday. Additional hours may be needed on Sundays. I’ll be happy to send you a copy of the permission form.”

Ms. Rouse’s eyes narrowed even further as she looked between the two of them. Raphael wasn’t sure she wouldn’t slam the door in their faces until she stepped aside with a derisive sniff.

“Make sure you do,” she said.

Raphael slipped past her with hunched shoulders and only turned back long enough to throw a grateful look at Father Aldertree who stood on the doorstep as if no evil could touch him.

“Good night, Raphael.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Father.”

The next morning, Raphael dressed in his brand-new uniform for the first time. The arctic green blazer clashed with his dark honey skin tone, and the silver-and-mint striped tie was a backhanded slap in the face of fashion.

His itinerary for the day started with a morning assembly in the auditorium of the Lightwood Building at 7:45 am. He found his way to the building in question by following the map in the school's app and the hundreds of students in arctic green blazers that dragged him along like a churning river.

The swell pushed up a flight of wide stone steps, divided between two sets of glass double-doors, and spilled into a large entrance hall with granite floors and panoramic windows. Raphael let the stream carry him forward, down a long hallway until they all ended up in an auditorium big enough to sit two hundred people with room to spare.

He watched the other students pick seats at random, any rows except the first two directly in front of the stage, and ended up somewhere toward the back, one seat away from the very end of the row close to the sound-proof wall.

The hard plastic seats on either side of him were still empty by the time the teachers climbed the steps onto the stage. Raphael breathed a sigh of relief. He allowed himself to relax and draped his arm over the seat on his left.

A square-jawed woman in her late fifties, presumably Headmistress Imogen Herondale, stepped up to the high-tech podium at the center of the stage and cleared her throat. Her makeup was too dark for her sallow complexion, and the microphone whined at her first attempt to speak into it. She clearly had trouble moderating her voice. 

“Good morning,” she said.

Her next words flew right over Raphael’s head because someone slipped into the seat beside him and, in the same liquid motion, snuggled up against his side.

“Thanks for saving me a seat, cinna-bun. Did I miss anything important?”

The irreverent purr belonged to a lithe boy with golden-brown skin, spiky black hair, and a stunning pair of dark brown cat-eyes.

“Whu-um-huh?” Raphael’s brain was having trouble making coherent words.

“Pleasure to meet you,” purred the cat-eyed boy. “I’m Magnus. Now, hush, we wouldn’t want to miss what I’m sure is going to be a riveting speech by our merciless leader.”

Raphael was too stunned to move when Magnus grabbed his arm, snuggled closer and linked their fingers on his bony shoulder, keeping Raphael trapped in a position that made them look like a couple. 

He tried to pull his arm free. Magnus tightened his grip. His skinny fingers were unnaturally warm and strong, and the edges of several rings bit sharply into Raphael’s skin. He relented.

Up on the stage, Headmistress Herondale had continued her prepared speech, blissfully ignorant of what was happening in the back rows.

“We are here to welcome three new students into our fold: Clarissa Fray, daughter of alumna Jocelyn Fairchild, and Simon Lewis, recipient of the Fairchild scholarship, both from Manhattan, New York, as well as Raphael Santiago from New Haven, Connecticut, whose aunt, Senator Camille Belcourt, has graciously agreed to sponsor our upcoming Fall Formal.”

The students cheered.

“Ow, ease up on the grip, cinna-bun,” Magnus murmured in his ear.

“Miss Fray, Mister Lewis, and Mister Santiago, would you please rise?” the headmistress ordered them with a sweeping motion of her hands.

Raphael unclenched his fingers, and Magnus released him so he could get up. The two other students stood up on the opposite side of the center aisle, closer to the front. The girl was a tiny red-head and the boy a lanky brunet who wouldn’t let go of the girl’s hand even though he was vibrating with anxiety.

“Welcome,” Headmistress Herondale looked at each of them before she turned her predatory gaze to the crowd at large. “Please, ensure that the transition for our newcomers is as smooth as possible and show them that our motto extends not only to flesh and blood but to everyone here at Alicante Academy. Familia Ante Omnia.” 

While the student body dutifully chorused the school motto, Magnus muttered beside him, “Familia anima obruat.”

Raphael had never taken Latin. He could cobble together the official school motto, thanks to being bilingual in English and Spanish, but Magnus’s phrase was a mystery. All he knew for sure was that the enigmatic boy didn’t agree with the idea of putting ‘family before everything’.

Raphael dropped back into his chair and pointedly crossed his arms in front of his chest. Magnus ignored the gesture and leaned closer. Vexed and embarrassed, Raphael stewed in silence while Headmistress Herondale went on and on about the upcoming dance.

“Fall Formal, seriously?” he growled between clenched teeth. “Why not just call it Homecoming like everyone else?”

Magnus chuckled. “Darling, we’re more special than that,” he purred, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin on Raphael’s neck. “We have one of these for every season. Spring Fling, Summer Slummer, Fall Fuckfest, and the Winter Wonderland. Of course, that’s not the official nomenclature.”

Raphael could feel heat climb up his neck and spread on his face like lava. Why did he have to ask? He hooked two fingers behind the Windsor knot in his tie and pulled, suddenly feeling suffocated by the ugly-ass uniform and everything that came with it.

“Awful, aren’t they?” Magnus flipped the length of Raphael’s tie between his index and middle finger. “It’s like they’re trying to get us used to being on a very tight leash.”

Raphael noticed that Magnus wore his tie loose, with a haphazard knot dangling in front of his sternum.

“I hate the colors,” he admitted.

“That’s because they were chosen to flatter their pasty-ass complexions.”

Raphael followed Magnus’s dancing fingers to the two rows right in front of the stage. The seats everyone else had avoided were now taken by a gang of eight, four boys and four girls.

“Who are they?”

Magnus somehow slid even closer and placed his lips right by Raphael’s ear, making him want to crawl out of his skin.

“The blond bad boy at the end of the front row is Jace Herondale. Next to him is Helen Blackthorn, then her special friend Aline Penhallow, and next to her is Isabelle Lightwood. Notice a theme?”

Every family name Magnus had mentioned belonged to a building on campus, and the boy named Jace was probably directly related to the Headmistress. Raphael nodded, and Magnus made a sarcastic little affirmative noise in his throat before he continued.

“Second row features Sebastian Verlac and Jonathan Morgenstern, Lydia Branwell and… Oh. My. If that’s who I think it is, someone grew up tall and hot.” He shook himself. “Sorry. What I meant to say was, I think that’s Alexander Lightwood, back from an extended stay in rehab. Excuse me, Europe.”

Raphael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The concept of high school royalty wasn’t new to him. Despite that, his previous school was an all-boys Catholic school where guys like Magnus and “special friends” like Helen and Aline simply didn’t exist.

The absence of his best friend Lily hit Raphael like a sucker punch in the ribs. She would have put herself between him and Magnus and provided the snarky quips that Raphael could never come up with on his own. Instead, Raphael swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded dumbly.

Headmistress Herondale’s sharp order of “Dismissed!” unexpectedly saved him from having to try to say something clever.

There was a cacophony of noise as everyone got up from their chairs at the same time and broke into disparate conversations. Raphael wanted to use the opportunity to get away, but Magnus made it impossible, sticking to his side like glitter glue.

“What’s your first class?”

“I don’t know.” Raphael shrugged and pulled out his phone to check. “AP Physics?”

“Bummer. Are you in AP Chem?” Magnus nearly climbed on him to get a peek at the screen. 

“No.”

While Raphael tried to squirm out of his grip, Magnus opened his mouth to say something else but he never got the chance.

“Magnus!”

A sharp female voice barked somewhere behind them. It belonged to a tall black girl who stalked up the gravel path like a soldier. Her eyes were narrowed to the point that all you could see were the thick, long lashes, and the tiny braids in her elaborate up-do rustled with every resolute thump of her heavy boots on the ground.

Magnus froze and held Raphael stiffly to his side. “Don’t move. Pretty sure her vision is based on movement.”

“Where have you been?” The girl stopped right in front of them and made a disgusted noise in her throat. “Ugh, you look like you just crawled out of bed … and not your bed.”

Her nimble fingers flew through Magnus’s hair, fixed his collar, and straightened his tie, all before Magnus had a chance to even raise his hands in protest.

“Catarina, stop fussing,” Magnus whined.

“I will if you stop showing up to morning assembly disheveled and reeking of sex.”

“I do not reek of sex,” Magnus insisted, only to turn wide eyes on Raphael. “Do I?”

Raphael took an involuntary deep breath. He had no idea what sex smelled like, but Magnus smelled like sage and spearmint chewing gum.

“No?”

“Don’t sound so hesitant,” Magnus complained and sniffed at himself. “No, I’m fine.”

“Who’s he?” Catarina asked, pointing a finger at Raphael before she turned her head to muster him like he was trying to join the army.

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Magnus teased. “He’s Raphael Santiago from New Hav—”

“New York,” Raphael interrupted sharply. “I’m Raphael Santiago from Harlem, New York City. My parents were Antonio and Guadalupe Santiago.”

Magnus muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Prepare to die.”

“What?” Raphael’s vision turned dark.

“Sorry, cinna-bun.” Magnus snickered. “You were having a very ‘Inigo Montoya’ moment there.”

The death of his parents was not the punchline of a joke. Raphael exploded.

“Fuck you!” He roared and pushed Magnus away from him. “They meant everything to me. You might not give a shit about family, asshole, but if you ever – ever – joke about their death again, I will kill you.” His hands were shaking, his heart was pounding, and he could barely see through the darkness blurring his vision.

“Whoa, shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Good going, dipshit.” Catarina slapped Magnus upside the head.

“I had no idea.” Magnus flapped his hands in distress. “Honestly, Raphael, I would never have made that joke if I’d known. I swear. Please, let me make it up to you?”

Make it up to him? This wasn’t like Magnus had accidentally spilled a drink on his shirt or stepped on his toes. Raphael hoped the expression on his face managed to convey what he was thinking because words, as always, failed him.

“I get it,” Magnus said, and his quiet voice for once lacked any purr or drawl. He met Raphael’s gaze head on, all playfulness vanished like it had never existed. “I lost my mom when I was nine.”

Raphael knew he was telling the truth. The loss was carved on Magnus’s soft, rounded features, older and more subdued than Raphael’s own pain, but there all the same. He accepted the apology with a stiff nod.

It took Magnus less than five seconds to drop the shroud of glamour back over his face and break out in a brilliant smile.

“I pick him,” he announced, firmly cupping his hands around Raphael’s shoulders.

“Excuse me?” Raphael shook his head, confused.

“Are you sure?” Catarina sounded skeptical. “You just screwed up big time, magpie. Maybe he doesn’t want to be picked.”

Raphael was losing his patience, overwhelmed by Magnus and Catarina’s ability to switch gears so quickly. Lily could have kept up with them, which reminded him that she wasn’t there, which only irritated him more.

“What are you talking about?”

“You, cinna-bun.” Magnus booped the tip of his nose. “Every year since Sophomore, Catarina and I each pick one person whom we take under our wing and raise to the heights of Olympus, using the considerable powers of our popularity and style. This year, I pick you. You’ll be my final project, my pièce de résistance, David to my Michelangelo.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. If you don’t let me pick you, they’ll assign Underhill as your student mentor and you will d—” Magnus cut himself off, switched gears again, and continued in a sultry drawl. “You will be so bored you’ll come back begging me to pick you.”

Catarina snickered. “That’s a challenge if I ever heard one.”

Raphael clenched his jaw. “I don’t beg.”

Magnus pouted, furrowed his brows, and widened his eyes in a creepily convincing impression of a cajoling puss-in-boots. Raphael rattled off his father’s favorite expletives under his breath and looked to heaven for patience and guidance.

He was stuck at this school for the foreseeable future without any of his friends. Aside from Father Aldertree, Magnus was the only person who had approached him, and it seemed that despite his overbearing personality, there was a genuine soul underneath it all who at least was able to partially understand what Raphael was going through.

“Fine.”

“Wonderful!” Magnus actually jumped on his heels and clapped his hands. “But first things first, we gotta get you to class. You do not want to be late for AP Physics with Ms. Graymark. That woman is fierce. And let me see your schedule so I can figure out if we have any free periods at the same time.”

Catarina remained behind in the middle of the gravel path. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Magnus looked back over his shoulder. “Find your own pick. Time’s ticking. Only two weeks till FF.” He rolled his hand in an elegant shooing motion. 

Classes were not significantly different from Raphael’s old school. The plethora of individual styles of clothing on his new teachers took some getting used to, but the basic personality types were by and large the same. He made a mental note to steer clear of the I-just-wanna-be-your-pal Econ teacher.

Raphael went through the first part of the day on autopilot, walking into the mess hall around 11:30 am because his schedule said so. He accepted his tray of food without looking at it and picked a solitary spot near the windows.

It turned out he did share the same lunch hour as Magnus and Catarina when they suddenly surrounded him. A loaded food tray clattered down next to his on either side. Magnus dropped onto the chair to Raphael’s left while Cat scraped her chair closer to him on the right.

“I picked someone,” she announced proudly.

“That was quick,” commented Magnus as he reached for his glass of orange juice.

“It was divine intervention, really. A sign from God.” She fluttered her hand and reached around Raphael with cat-like speed to snatch the brownie from Magnus’s tray.

“Hey!” Magnus protested. “I wanted that!”

Raphael pushed his tray closer to him. “You can have mine.”

“Thanks, cinna-bun, you’re the best.” Magnus kissed the air in his direction and snatched the brownie from his tray. “So, who’d you pick?” he asked Catarina with a glare as she shoved Magnus’s brownie into her mouth.

“Phy-mon Loo-iph.”

“Try that again with less than a pound in your mouth.”

Catarina crossed her eyes at Magnus and somehow managed to stick her tongue out without getting brownie everywhere. Then she gulped down the food with a bit of juice and repeated herself more clearly.

“Simon Lewis,” she said. “We have Comp Lit together and he dropped his pencils in front of me.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and even Raphael couldn’t stop himself from raising his brows with a grimace of pity and disbelief.

“You pick the guy who’s trying to upskirt you on his first day?”

“No! That’s the thing.” She bounced with excitement, stifling a cackle. “It was a genuine accident. Like he didn’t drop a pencil, he dropped all his pencils. We’re talking dozens of them. He must be an artist or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he got so flustered, he banged his head on the desk, twice, and the whole time he’s babbling about how he’s not looking up my skirt and he didn’t mean to and I swear he had his eyes legit squeezed shut, trying to fish for his pencils blind. It was so damn cute. How could I not pick him?”

Magnus and Raphael exchanged a look.

Magnus sighed exaggeratedly. “Cat has this thing for lost causes. If they allowed pets here, she’d be the one with a zoo full of strays stashed in her room.”

“Not fair,” Cat grumbled. “Plus, he’s hot, too. Like nerd-hot. I don’t know, it’s something about the way he wears his glasses, maybe? Anyway, he has the biggest brown puppy eyes and I’m pretty sure there’s a toned body under that uniform. I’ll find out when we go shopping.”

Magnus snickered. “The poor boy. Does he even know you picked him yet?”

Cat bit her lip and shoved a fork full of macaroni and cheese in her mouth. She looked altogether too interested in her food for a moment. Raphael knew that expression, had seen it on Lily’s face a million times when she hadn’t thought one of her crazy plans all the way through.

He chuckled. Then he caught himself and quickly sobered up, feeling guilty.

“Hey, that was a real smile.” Of course, Magnus couldn’t just let it go. “Nay, a whole chuckle!”

Raphael sank low in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

Magnus flashed his eyes at Catarina, drawing attention to the thick lines of guy-liner that emphasized their shape.

“So, what? Were you just planning to sneak up behind him, drop a hood over his head, and kidnap him to the mall this weekend?”

“No!” she protested, shoving a few more bites of food in her mouth. “I’ll figure it out,” she mumbled. Her umber cheeks suddenly developed a deep cherry undertone. “God, I’m starving.”

“Here.” Raphael pushed his tray in her direction, putting her out of her misery. “You can have mine. I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Thanks, babe,” she said with a genuine smile and pulled his tray in front of her. 

Magnus drummed his fingers against his chin and pursed his lips in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh, I know!” he suddenly exclaimed, a spark of something truly wicked in his eyes. “Invite him to my party tonight. Bring him as your plus one. A couple drinks, a wink, a nudge, maybe a hug against your ample, loving bosom. He’ll be yours before he knows what happened.”

Raphael’s eyes froze in a hard stare as he furrowed his brows at Magnus. He couldn’t understand how Magnus talked so casually about breaking the rules and about Cat’s body. The only bosoms that ever got mentioned at full volume around Raphael’s old school belonged to Jesus Christ or the Holy Virgin.

Cat didn’t seem fazed. Her hand flew around Raphael to smack Magnus in the shoulder and she rolled her eyes.

“You know you’re just jealous you don’t have the same awesome powers my boobs can wield.”

“Oh, honey, you know I do. My powers just happen to be farther due south.” Magnus waggled his brows.

Raphael felt the lava crawl up his neck and all over his face. He brought a hand up against his forehead and reached for his phone with the other. Lunch had to be over soon.

“Don’t be embarrassed, cinna-bun,” Magnus purred in his ear. “You’ll get used to us. Now, tell me, what house are you in? Just so I know where to pick you up tonight.”

Raphael glared through his fingers. “I’m not going to some unsanctioned party. I almost got a demerit last night for staying out past curfew as it is.”

Magnus interlaced his fingers, pulled out the cajoling puss-in-boots eyes, and wheedled. “Please? I promise it’ll be fun, and small, and you won’t get caught.”

“No.” Raphael shook his head firmly.

“But—"

“Don’t push him, magpie,” Cat said sharply. “You heard him say no.”

“Fine.” Magnus sat back with a pout that would have made a five-year-old proud. “Spoilsport.”

“Besides,” Raphael pointed out. “I already have some place I need to be tonight. I’m helping out at the chapel until 9:30.”

“Yeah, right,” Magnus drawled. “Tell me another one, choir boy.”

Raphael’s back stiffened. He had figured that Magnus wasn’t religious, but he still didn’t like the way he had made it sound.

“Wait,” Magnus said the next second. “You’re serious. This is actually a thing for you.”

Suddenly there was a nervous tension in Magnus that hadn’t been there before. He pulled back and sat up straighter, all his flirtatious behavior gone up in smoke.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he said quietly. 

“Why?” Raphael asked with an edge to his voice. “Afraid to be hanging out with a religious nut? Don’t want to be seen with a bible thumper?”

Cat choked on her food.

Magnus stiffened. His slim shoulders tightened and he blinked glittering eyes at Raphael.

“More like I’m not interested to hear I’ll burn in hell when you catch me making out with a guy.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “Just because I believe in God, doesn’t mean that I agree with every single one of his followers or what they said. Leviticus was just one of them, and he was wrong about shrimp and mixed fabrics, too.”

Magnus relaxed marginally. “So, we’re good?”

Raphael shrugged. “If you can keep yourself from making fun of me,” he said, glancing in Cat’s direction before he added, “or God.”

Cat looked confused for a second until her eyes widened and she realized what Raphael was referring to.

“You know,” she said, “I kinda meant that. I mean, what are the chances that I’m desperately looking for a person, and then the perfect guy, the new guy, actually sits next to me and drops a whole bunch of pencils right in front of me. There’s got to be some higher power involved in that, right?”

Raphael looked her up and down, trying to gauge how serious she was. Cat swallowed nervously and looked down at her lap. She fiddled with the collar of her perfectly straight uniform and revealed a delicate gold chain around her neck. A tiny gold cross dangled from the end.

“Team Jesus, represent,” she mumbled quickly and shoved the cross back under her shirt. “But don’t make a big deal out of it. Okay?”

He raised one eyebrow, looking at her skeptically, but there was a tiny part of him that felt better. Relieved. Like he wasn’t all alone.

“Okay.”

The second half of the day passed by in a blur of lectures and assignments. Raphael skipped dinner in favor of hiding in his room, not interested in a repeat of listening to Cat and Magnus chatter about the party or Magnus trying to not-so-subtly get Raphael’s dorm info out of him.

At a quarter past eight, Raphael left Blackthorn Hall and made his way to the chapel to meet Father Aldertree. He had no idea what sort of help the father needed at the chapel on a daily basis, but Raphael was happy to have an excuse to spend time at the church. He still wasn’t ready to talk to God, but at least he could show that he hadn’t turned his back.


	3. Alicante After Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to chapter 2. Thank you everyone for leaving such wonderful comments. Keep 'em coming. They make me feel all warm and tingly. 
> 
> **Important Note** about this chapter:
> 
> Jace Herondale will do something you don't expect. It will make you mad. Maybe it will make you want to stop reading this story because you like his character. Keep reading anyway. Trust that not everything is the way it appears.
> 
> ###### 

Two hours after his extended curfew, Raphael lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, when he heard the quiet squeak of the door opening.

“Raphael?” Magnus’s voice rasped in the darkness. “Are you awake?”

Raphael closed his eyes and debated if he should just pretend to be asleep. What were the chances of Magnus going away if he did? What where the chances of Magnus bouncing onto the bed in a flying leap instead? Raphael didn’t like the odds.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Yes,” Magnus hissed. “I knew it. Get up. I’m busting you out of here.”

“No, Magnus,” Raphael said quietly, sitting up on the bed. “I told you, I’m not going to this stupid par— Holy Mother of God, what are you wearing?”

“Do you like it?” Magnus preened with his arms splayed wide. “It’s one of my favorite shirts.”

“It’s see-through.”

Raphael buried his face in his hands and muttered a quick prayer to the Virgin Mary, asking for forgiveness on Magnus’s behalf.

“Hey, none of that.” Magnus narrowed his eyes and sashayed closer, grabbing Raphael’s hand. “I haven’t done anything worth asking for forgiveness. Yet.” He waggled his brows. “Now, come on. Please.”

He physically dragged Raphael across the bed, leaving him little choice but to move or end up landing on his ass on the floor. Raphael jumped to his feet, pulled his hand from Magnus’s grasp, and stood up to his full height in front of Magnus, bringing them nose to nose.

“Are you really going to drag me to a party dressed like this?”

He pointed angrily at the brand-new red silk pajamas he was wearing, which he loathed with every fiber of his being.

Magnus made a face. “While you do look good in red, this isn’t exactly what I had envisioned.”

“All my clothes are like this now.”

“Why?”

Raphael looked down. He really didn’t want to talk about what had happened to his clothes. Or his family.

“You know what?” Magnus said. “Never mind. I can fix this. Just put on some shoes.”

“Magnus.”

“Please?”

Raphael made a frustrated noise in his throat and dragged his fingers through his hair. He already regretted the words that were going to come out of his mouth next.

“You’re going to get me into so much trouble.”

Magnus smiled like the cat that ate the canary and washed it down with a cup of cream.

“You’ll love every minute of it.”

Raphael shoved his feet into a pair of Italian suede loafers (which he also hated), and followed Magnus quietly out the door.

They tiptoed down the stairs and sneaked out of Blackthorn Hall through the backdoor, into the cold night air. Raphael cursed under his breath.

“It’s freezing out here.”

“Shh. You’ll wake up the dragon. Come on.”

He followed Magnus along a bunch of overgrown hedges, through an immaculately landscaped area to another two-story Tudor behind a set of flower beds.

“Penhallow Hall,” Magnus whispered in his ear before he pulled him through the backdoor and inside.

Magnus’s room was huge. He had real art on the walls, and his bed was a California king with black silk sheets and a tiger print comforter. There was still enough room for a walk-in closet and a maroon fainting couch against the wall.

“Sit.”

Magnus wiggled his skinny fingers at the fainting couch as he closed and locked the door.

Raphael wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with the idea, but he did as he was told. It felt weird to sit, ramrod straight, on the kind of couch that was meant for girls to sprawl on and have their picture taken.

“Okay, so what’s your style?”

Magnus stepped through the open door into the walk-in closet. When he turned on the light, Raphael got his first real look at the monstrous size of the thing and the avalanche of clothes it contained.

“If not silk then what? Leather? Linen? Bit of both? Bad boy, fabulous boy? Oh, please tell me there’s just a tiny bit of a diva in you. I want to put eyeliner on you so bad.”

Magnus was treating the clothes in his closet with complete irreverence, dragging out shirts and pants as if any of them were replaceable at the drop of a hat and not worth more than candy wrappers.

“Oh, you have to try this one.”

He came out of the closet with a dark blue quilted silk jacket. Raphael crinkled his brows with a skeptical frown. He preferred to keep things a bit more understated. On the other hand, it was freezing out there, and the cut looked wide enough to work for his shoulders.

“Fine,” he agreed.

“Yes,” Magnus bounced on his heels and flashed his eyes at him. “Oh, and jeans. What’s your size?”

“Thirty-two,” Raphael answered honestly.

Magnus bit his bottom lip and stared at the middle distance for a moment. “You’ll just have to suck it in for tonight.”

“What the—”

“Sorry, I’m a thirty.”

A pair of black skinny jeans flew at his face. Raphael held them up with an expression of horror and disgust.

“Don’t you have a relaxed cut?”

Magnus rolled his eyes. Another pair of jeans flew out of the closet and into Raphael’s face.

“Thanks.”

Raphael got out of the clingy pajama pants and shoved his legs into the faded black denims.

“And this,” Magnus announced as he came out of the closet with a black, crew-neck T-shirt with holes in strategic places.

“No.”

Magnus’s face fell.

“No holes,” Raphael said firmly.

Magnus made disappointed duck-face, blew air through his lips, and said, “Fine,” in a deflated grumble. 

Then he bounced back into the closet with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Nothing see-through either!” Raphael growled after him.

He ended up with a long-sleeve black T-shirt sans holes. It barely stretched enough to fit him, because Magnus was skinnier around the chest. Raphael could feel the hem ride up every time he moved.

Magnus leered. “Now, about that eyeliner.” He bounced his finely shaped brows.

Raphael sighed and dropped his head against the hard frame of the fainting couch.

“Can we not?”

“Not ready to go full gorgeous yet?” Magnus snickered. “That’s okay, I understand. But you’ll let me fix your hair, yes?”

When Raphael cracked his eyes open, Magnus was standing in front of him making grabby fingers in the general direction of his head. He groaned.

“You’re worse than Lily.”

“Oh,” said Magnus, drawing it out into something dirty and uncomfortable. “Who’s that? Girlfriend?”

He bounced off and returned with a tube of hair gel. Wiggled the tube in Raphael’s face. Countered the murderous glare Raphael shot at him with his most disarming puss-in-boots.

“Fine,” Raphael relented.

Magnus was on him like glitter glue, skinny fingers delving into Raphael’s curls and sorting through the mess. He was harsher than Lily, more focused. Lily had always liked to play with Raphael’s hair.

“She’s my best friend,” he said quietly.

Magnus hummed in his throat. “But you love her?”

“Of course, I love her. She’s my best friend.”

Magnus’s fingers stopped in his hair for a moment before they went back to the job. 

“There, all done.”

Raphael took his word for it. There was a mirror on the back of the closet door, but he didn’t really feel like looking at himself.

“Now what?” he asked instead.

“Now, we go party.”

Alicante Academy had two sets of horse stables. The brand-new construction near the chapel had twenty-four individual box stalls, a grazing paddock, and an obstacle course out front. The old stables were half the size and tucked away at the edge of the woods that marked the end of the academy’s property.

“Welcome to Club Chaos!” Magnus announced as he pushed aside the heavy sliding door.

It wasn’t a club by any stretch of the imagination. Someone had strung up Christmas lights along the walls. A bunch of hay bales and old horse blankets had been organized into a seating arrangement in the open area between the two rows of box stalls. The most outstanding feature was the entertainment center. It had a 40-inch flat screen, a top of the line set of blue tooth speakers, and a gaming console with two VR headsets.

Low-key pop music was coming out of the speakers at the moment, filling the silence between stilted conversations.

Cat was off her hay bale and on top of them in a heartbeat.

“What took you so long?” she asked, grabbing them each by one hand and dragging them inside. “I thought you got busted!”

“Fashion emergency,” Magnus explained, resisting her pull long enough to close the sliding door behind them.

“Come on,” she said, “I need you to meet Simon.” Cat squeezed herself between them, threw her arms over their shoulders, drew them in tight, and lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. “And help me pry his eyes off red menace over there.”

Her chin jerked in the direction of the tiny red-head who had stood up during morning assembly. Currently, the girl was trying hard to sidle up to the blond guy Magnus had identified as Jace Herondale. He was too busy setting up one of the VR sets to notice.

Magnus frowned. “Who invited her?”

Cat cringed. “Simon did. I told him it was okay to bring his best friend.”

Raphael felt weird about the whole set up. He hadn’t expected to be confronted directly with what passed for royalty at this school. Not only had Jace Herondale showed up, Raphael had already identified three more members of the eminent eight. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of them.

Cat was still holding them close, one elbow hooked around each of their necks. Raphael glared across the short distance at Magnus.

“I thought you didn’t like them?” he rumbled under his breath.

“I don’t,” said Magnus immediately. “Most of them, anyway. Gotta play nice with the elite, though.”

Raphael could accept that. As long as they didn’t have to talk to them.

“Sorry, cinna-b … Raphael.”

Raphael raised his brows. “What happened to cinna-bun?”

Magnus bit his bottom lip. “Is that still okay?”

Cat rolled her eyes. “Oh, just kiss already.”

She squeezed her arms together, knocking their foreheads into each other. Bright red flashed behind Raphael’s closed eyes. His head stung and his teeth clicked together sharply. When he pulled back, his lips tasted suspiciously like spearmint chap stick.

He rolled his eyes and slipped out of Cat’s stranglehold.

“You had your fun,” he said with a discreet glare. “Now, where’s this Simon guy?”

“Yes,” Magnus agreed, wrapping his arm around Cat’s waist. “Let’s meet this nerdy heart-throb.”

Cat pulled them along to the hay bale she had abandoned a minute ago. On the floor beside it sat a boy with long legs in torn up blue jeans. His brown hair was a bushy mess, and the big glasses on his face really didn’t do him any favors. On the upside, he was wearing a Nirvana T-shirt, so at least he had decent taste in music.

“Simon, these are my babes. Magnus and Raphael. Babes, this is Simon.”

“Yeah, um, hi. Nice to meet you, I guess, babes. I mean, sorry. I probably shouldn’t call you that because you’re not my babes. Does it feel weird when she calls you that? Babes. I never noticed how weird that sounds in plural. Babes.”

Magnus sighed. Raphael cringed. Cat giggled.

“What did you give him?” Magnus asked through his teeth.

“Nothing!” Cat raised both hands in defense. “I swear. He’s just like that. I think it’s adorable.”

Simon scoffed. “Yeah, trust me, it’s not. It’s very much not when you can’t control it. I’m sorry, guys. I should probably just…”

His long arms made an awkward flapping motion and he started to fold up like a lawn chair, trying to get on his feet.

“Oh, no, you don’t.”

Cat immediately released Magnus and planted herself on Simon’s lap, keeping him from going anywhere. She threw her arms around his neck and looked up at Magnus and Raphael with the same military-style scowl she had sported when she had caught up with them after morning assembly.

“Babes, say something nice.”

“I’m not your—”

Magnus’s pointy elbow caught Raphael in the ribs, cutting him off.

“Something nice,” Magnus said grandly, opening his eyes wide. “All joking aside, I do like your shirt. Good music, Nirvana, just a regrettable absence of style and personal hygiene.”

“Not everyone is into glam, Magnus,” Raphael grumbled.

“And what a crying shame that is.” Magnus flashed him a grin. “But I haven’t given up on you yet.”

Raphael groaned and dropped on the ground in front of Simon and Cat.

She still hadn’t moved from his lap. Simon was sitting as stiff as a board, his hands plastered flat to the gritty cement floor. His eyes were open wide in panic and very obviously searching for anywhere to look that wasn’t Cat’s breasts pretty much right below his chin. In his desperation, Simon stared straight into Raphael’s eyes.

When Raphael raised his brows, Simon turned an alarming shade of vermillion and made a small whining noise in his throat.

Raphael chuckled.

“That’s two,” Magnus’s voice purred right in his ear.

Raphael shivered at the hot breath fanning over his neck and recoiled with a glare. Magnus ignored the warning with a Cheshire grin and made himself comfortable right up against Raphael’s side.

“So, tell us about yourself, Lewis.”

Magnus grabbed Raphael’s hand and draped it over his skinny shoulders, linking their fingers. Raphael was beginning to think the boy just had no concept of personal space. Looking over at Cat, still draped across Simon’s lap with her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, Raphael could see why the two got along so well. Glitter glue and shiny craft paper. A devastating combination.

“Oh, um, uh.” Simon stammered, helplessly searching his surroundings. “I’m new here, obviously. I came with Clary.” His eyes moved to the red-head who was still trying and failing to get Jace Herondale’s attention over by the TV. “We’re kind of a package deal. Been best friends ever since we met in kindergarten. She’s great. She’s an artist. She’s going to be famous one day.”

Magnus blew a quick high-low tweet through pursed lips and wiggled his bejeweled fingers in front of Simon.

“I asked about you, sweetie.”

“Yeah, right.” Simon looked very uncomfortable. “I’m just not that interesting, I guess. Um, I’m from Brooklyn. I have a sister in college. I play guitar.”

“There we go!” Cat bounced on his lap. “Are you any good?”

Simon was clearly too busy going into panic mode to answer her question. 

“Can you maybe …” He gulped. “Sit still? Just … Or don’t move so much. Or just maybe not right there ... Or maybe get off my lap, please? If you don’t mind.”

If there was a shade redder than vermillion, Simon’s face was it.

“Oh, Simon,” Cat purred, but she did shift further down his legs and dropped her arms from around his neck. “Does that mean you like me?”

“You’re really, really pretty. And super cool, and way out of my league, anyway. Just, I’m in love with Clary, so can you please stop torturing me, like now-ish?” 

Cat crawled off his lap immediately and settled down on the floor beside him, raising both hands.

“All off, see,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. It’s just Magnus and I, we’re …” She trailed off and exchanged a look with Magnus who was still nestled up to Raphael’s side like the world’s largest indoor cat. “Snuggly.” 

Raphael closed his eyes and made a resigned noise low in his throat.

“I find it’s easier to just go with it,” he said with a shrug.

Simon floundered a bit, jerking his shoulders and waving his hands as if to indicate he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I don’t,” he said, “I really don’t know how to … Clary’s not that … physical.”

Cat snorted. “Maybe not with you.”

She hooked her arm through Simon’s and snuggled up against his shoulder, careful to keep her breasts away from him.

“Looks like she finally got Jace’s attention,” she said with a narrow-eyed glare in the direction of the TV screen.

Raphael followed her gaze. The red-head was touching Herondale’s arm and he was obviously flexing.

“That’s okay,” Cat said mildly. “She’ll find out. And we’ll find you someone who deserves you.”

“She deserves everything,” Simon said, staring forlorn at Clary and Jace flirting.

Magnus hooked his chin on Raphael’s shoulder and muttered under his breath, “He’s got it bad.”

Raphael agreed with a monotone hum.

“This calls for alcohol,” Magnus announced and jumped to his feet. “Be right back.”

Raphael watched him sashay across the room to the circle of royalty. He stopped in front of a tall guy with sandy-blond hair who was busy sticking his tongue down the throat of the platinum blonde curly girl in his lap.

“Hey, Verlac.” Magnus kicked the heel of the closest combat boot. “Come up for air for a sec. Where’d you stash the booze?”

Verlac twisted his long fingers through the girl’s curly mop and pulled her head aside.

“Second stall, inside the equipment chest,” he snarled. “Where else would I’ve put it?” 

“Just checking,” Magnus shot back with a facetious smile and wiggled his fingers at the two. “As you were.”

The two went back to kissing like they were trying to eat each other’s faces.

Raphael grimaced. Personally, he didn’t see the appeal, but it was pretty clear he was in the minority with that opinion.

Aside from Verlac and his girlfriend, three more couples were engaged in various stages of making out.

There was the pale girl with long dark hair whom Magnus had pointed out during assembly. She was sprawled across the lap of a guy with thick dark dreads and olive-tan arms covered in the early stages of full sleeve tattoos.

Next to them, a platinum-blonde skinny dude was making out with an equally skinny honey-blonde girl.

By the TV, Herondale and the red-head were only getting started. She had to stand on her very tippy toes to even reach him, but Herondale had no problem putting his hands on her butt to give her a boost.

Raphael averted his eyes with a sneer.

Simon looked crushed. He stared at the couple by the TV as if he was watching someone drive over his beloved pet and then put the car in reverse.

“So, you’re from Brooklyn?” Raphael asked loudly, trying to get his attention.

“Huh?” Simon turned slowly to face him, eyes wide and glassy. “Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

His head was already moving back in the direction of his torment. Raphael rolled his eyes and threw a Hail Mary.

“Ever been to Java Jones?”

“Are you kidding?” Simon’s eyes snapped back to him. “That’s my favorite coffee place. How do you know about that? Do they have Java Jones in Connecticut?”

Raphael scoffed. “I’m actually from New York. Grew up in Manhattan, north of 96th.”

“No way!” Simon lit up from the inside. “Ever get into Shrine?”

“Once or twice,” Raphael admitted.

“I’d kill to play there. They have the best crowd. Okay, maybe not literally kill, but I’d definitely do a lot of shady stuff if it got me a slot.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Dude, I’m sixteen. They’re not going to make an exception to the over-21 rule just to let a teenage nerd live his dream. I was lucky enough to slip through the cracks once.”

Raphael shrugged. “Have you played other venues?”

“A couple coffee shops. The band wasn’t really all that good. Eric just sucks at time management and Maureen ...” Simon flinched, shook his head. “It was complicated. Anyway.”

“Maybe you can play for us some night,” Raphael suggested. “Did you bring your guitar to school?”

“Yeah, of course. I don’t go anywhere without my baby.”

Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose to hide a grin. Of course, Simon would be the type to treat his instrument like a person.

Cat flashed Raphael a grateful smile from beside Simon. Raphael returned it with a smirk of his own. Simon Lewis wasn’t so bad if you got him to talk about something other than that Clary girl.

“Stay away from me, faggot!”

The shout echoed through the stable, getting everyone’s attention.

“What the …”

Simon looked like a spooked animal.

Raphael squared his shoulders and got to his feet, ready to teach a lesson to the stupid asshole who had insulted Magnus.

Except, Jace Herondale was facing off with a tall, dark haired white boy who looked like he belonged in a music video for My Chemical Romance.

The insult had shattered the guy more than any sucker punch could. It was all over his face and in the way his shoulders sagged, like he was trying to make himself smaller. If nobody did anything, he was gonna cry.

Simon’s red-headed friend was standing in the shadows behind Herondale, looking at him wide-eyed and frozen.

“Jace, what the hell?” asked the girl who’d been making out with tattoo guy. She was trying to pull herself out of his embrace as she looked back and forth between Herondale and the emo kid. “Alec, he didn’t mean it.”

_Bullshit._ Raphael cracked his knuckles.

“You’re just a fucking dick, Jace.”

Catarina’s voice cut like a switchblade through the background noise. She got up, leaning on Simon’s shoulder for a second, and walked right into the center of the drama.

“Stay out of it, Loss,” Herondale barked at her.

“And not even a big one,” she said, ignoring his warning. “Just an insignificant micro-dick not even big enough to cause pleasure or pain.” 

She raised her fist, her crooked pinky a sharper insult than any extended middle finger could hope to be. It reminded Raphael so much of Lily. She knew how to use words to hurt and wasn’t afraid to throw them like knives in someone’s face.

“Like you would know. You’re all tease and no delivery.”

“Just because you’re too afraid to actually care for someone, doesn’t mean you get to spew that shit around.”

She had put herself in front of the emo kid, Alec, all of her five foot eight plus Doc Martens ready to kick Herondale’s ass. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

“It’s not your party, sweetheart,” Herondale drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No,” said Magnus, calmly. “It’s mine, so I get to call who stays and goes.”

He had stepped out from the box stall with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a bottle of white rum in the other. Raphael instinctively moved closer, putting himself between Magnus and Herondale in case there was going to be a fight.

“He called that Alec kid a—”

“I heard him,” Magnus said, pushing the bottle of vodka into Raphael’s hand.

“It’s okay, I’m leaving.” Alec’s voice was barely audible as he tried to slink away or maybe just merge with the wall panels behind him. 

“Oh no, sugar,” said Cat, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You got nothing to feel bad about here.”

At the same time, Magnus pulled himself to his full height and swept his free arm out in a wide arc that ended with his index finger pointed at the door.

“You heard my friend. Get the fuck out of here, Herondale.”

The blond stared back at Magnus defiantly. “Stupid faggots.”

Raphael clenched his fist around the vodka bottle and raised a challenging brow at the petite brunette who had pulled herself away from her lover.

_Didn’t mean it, huh?_

She lowered her gaze with an angry blush on her cheeks.

Magnus gave Herondale one long, unimpressed once-over and shrugged a blasé shoulder.

“Stupid? Is that the best you can do? Please, all the best adjectives have four syllables or more. If you must try to deride me, at least reach for higher prose. Call me insouciant, indecorous, promiscuous, or vainglorious. Never forget though, I am also titillating, scintillating, and devastatingly fabulous. Which, I know has only three syllables, but I feel an exception can be made on account of its very nature, don’t you agree?”

Herondale made a disgusted face, spat on the floor, and stormed off.

Magnus turned to the rest of the group, rum bottle in hand. “If anyone else shares his opinion, leave now.”

The tattoo guy shook his head. His girlfriend had moved over to Alec, talking to him in a low voice. When she put a hand on his shoulder, he shrugged it off and pulled away from her.

Verlac and the platinum-blond guy who Raphael figured to be Morgenstern were already settling back into their respective make-out sessions.

“Nah, man,” said Morgenstern. “We’re good.”

Verlac somehow managed to look down his aquiline nose at Magnus even though he was looking up from the floor.

“I don’t care who you bugger as long as it’s not me.” His head snapped forward from the force of his girlfriend’s smack. “Bloody hell, what?”

“That’s still offensive, you knob.”

“Sorry.”

It was glaringly obvious he was apologizing to her rather than Magnus or Alec.

Magnus ignored them. “Anyone up for drinks and Cards Against Humanity? Cat, can you get the box?”

Raphael relaxed and sat down heavily on the closest bale of hay. He put the vodka bottle down between his feet and looked at Simon on the floor beside him. The guy was pale as a ghost, staring at the spot where Herondale had stormed out, leaving the sliding door wide open in his wake.

“You okay?”

Simon shook his head. “I’m really, really not good with conflict. Like, any kind of conflict in general, but especially the physical kind. I don’t hit people and I don’t think I’d be any good at getting hit. I wasn’t the last time I checked. Getting punched in the stomach makes me barf.”

Raphael cringed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.

“You can relax now,” he said. “The asshole’s gone. There’s not going to be a fight.”

Simon tensed under his hand. Raphael was confused until he noticed the red-head by the stable doors, trying to sneak out unnoticed. When Simon made to get up, Raphael instinctively tightened his grip to hold him down.

“Don’t,” he growled quietly. “She’s going after him. If you put yourself in the middle of that, you are going to get punched.”

Simon fought his grip, trying to get up anyway. “I can’t just let her fall for that dick.”

Cat stepped in front of them with one hand on her hip and the other holding the big black box of playing cards. “She won’t be the first and definitely not the last. Some of us need to learn by mistake, and Clary strikes me as that type.”

She plopped herself down on Simon’s other side, grabbed his arm with both hands, and hooked her chin on his shoulder.

“Stay, please?” she coaxed.

Magnus came back with the tattoo guy in tow. Tattoo guy’s girlfriend was trying to coax Alec over.

“Come on, handsome,” Magnus said, pointedly looking at Alec. “You can sit next to me. Us gorgeous boys have to stick together.” He patted the floor next to him.

“Yes, come on, Alec.”

“Izzy, no.”

“Please?”

The brunette, Izzy, grabbed Alec’s hand and pulled him over to the group.

Magnus looked back at the two couples still making out on the bales by the entertainment center.

“You coming?”

Morgenstern didn’t respond. The honey-blonde making out with him extended her middle finger in their general direction.

Curly girl pulled herself off Verlac’s lap and dragged him after her. She had a pixie-face and a smattering of freckles all over her nose and cheeks.

“Come on, I want some of that booze.”

They ended up in a loose circle. Alec was flanked by Magnus on one side and Izzy on the other. Cat and Raphael kept Simon between them. Tattoo guy sprawled cross-legged next to Izzy. Verlac and his girlfriend completed the circle between tattoo guy and Cat.

She handed the open box to Magnus and he pulled out a large stack of white cards.

“Everybody remember the rules?” His fingers handled the cards with the same harsh focus and precision they had given to Raphael’s hair earlier.

Everyone nodded and muttered assent.

“Best answer takes a shot, their choice.” Magnus nodded toward the bottles of vodka and rum and dealt ten white cards in front of each of them.

Raphael cleared his throat and leaned down toward Magnus on his left.

“I don’t really want to get drunk,” he muttered under his breath.

Magnus chuckled. “Listen to Mister Confident over here. You really think your hand is gonna be that good?” He winked. “Seriously, though. If you don’t want to get drunk, just take a small sip if you win.” He looked up at the circle. “Unless, does anyone want to be the stand-in for Raphael?” 

All hands went up except Simon’s.

“Bunch of boozers.” Raphael rolled his eyes. “I can handle it.”

“Okay. First round.” Magnus flipped over the first black card. “Your honor, I plead not guilty to …”

Six rounds later, Raphael had yet to win a hand. He wasn’t too disappointed.

“This is the prime of my life,” Izzy read out loud, “I am young, hot, and full of …”

She picked up the stack of white cards from the middle and read them one at a time.

“The Great Depression; my sex-life; fiery poops; masturbation; silence; poor life choices; warm, velvety Muppet sex?” She shook her head and moved on to the final card. “The primal, ball-slapping sex your parents are having right now?” She gagged and shuddered exaggeratedly. “Ew. Yeah, no. Bleh.”

Morgenstern cackled.

Izzy shook her head. “Poor life choices. Definitely. But masturbation was a close second.” She giggled.

Raphael raised his hand and accepted the black card from Izzy.

“Name your poison, cinna-bun.”

Raphael pointed at the half empty vodka bottle. Magnus unscrewed the lid and moved it over to him but held tight when Raphael tried to take it out of his hand.

“You sure?”

“I’m fine.”

Raphael braced himself for the taste. The last time he’d had alcohol was the night he had gone to the concert with Lily. The night his family had died. He took a healthy swig and chased it down with another one. Then took a third for good measure.

The group hooted and hollered. Raphael tried not to cough as the alcohol burned down his throat like fire and dropped into his empty stomach like a ball of molten lead.

It didn’t take long for the effects to hit him. His head went fuzzy. His body went numb. The room started to tilt at a funny angle. Everything took a lot longer to get to him.

Raphael lost track of the game, throwing down random cards. He won two more rounds.

“When you get right down to it,” Simon repeated the black card before he read the set of responses, “Being a motherfucking box is just blossoming into a beautiful young woman.” He shook his head and went to the next answer. “Eating ass is just the sweet, forbidden meat of the monkey.”

“No,” Izzy shrieked. “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

Verlac’s girlfriend, Eloise, cackled like a hyena and collapsed into Verlac’s lap.

“Okay…” Simon looked at them skeptically and finished reading the last response.

“When you get right down to it, rock-hard tits and a huge vagina is just twisting my cock and balls into a balloon poodle. Ouch. Okay, yeah. That one gets it for grossest mental image.”

“Yes!” Magnus kissed the air in Simon’s direction and snatched the black card from his fingers. 

Raphael chuckled slowly and let his head roll back against the bale of hay behind him. He didn’t remember sliding to the floor.

“Hey, Raphael. You okay?”

Simon’s face was practically in his face.

_Cat’s right, he has the biggest damn puppy eyes. _

Raphael giggled. He slung his arm out and patted Simon’s wooly mop of hair.

“Perrito mullido.”

Simon blinked and cleared his throat, ducked his head before he looked back up at Raphael with even bigger puppy eyes.

“I have no idea what that means,” he said. “Does that mean you’re okay?”

“Que buen perrito.”

He scratched Simon behind the ear and petted his hair some more. It was very soft. Could use a good combing, though.

“Is it just me or is he acting like I’m a dog?”

“Cinna-bun?”

Magnus’s voice blew hot breath right in his ear. Raphael shivered and turned his head to look at him.

“Hm, gatito tierno.”

“Okay,” Magnus’s kitty eyes went big and shiny. “He hasn’t had that much to drink, has he?”

Simon shrugged, flapping his hands. He had big hands. “Two shots, three maybe?”

“Raphael?”

Uh-oh. Magnus was using his name and he looked a bit concerned.

“Ay, gatito, no te preocupes, tranquilo. Está bien.”

He reached out to pet Magnus but his aim was a bit off.

“Uh-huh.” Magnus furrowed his brows. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Raphael blew a noisy breath through his lips and tried to remember. He was having trouble. Definitely the last one he remembered was the bag of pretzels on the short flight from New Haven.

“En el avión?” He made a take off motion with his hand.

“On the plane? Raphael, that was almost two days ago!”

Raphael shrugged. He hadn’t been hungry.

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Unimportant Note**: 
> 
> This story has a YouTube playlist. I'd love to have pretty mood boards and all that jazz, but I forever fail at any and all types of art project. Adding a good song to a playlist, however, is easy. [Boys Don't Cry](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLn16Yv6VnImfo_qFZ9QArrvzhNfbtldD_)


	4. Loyalties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Simon's head. It's a messy place. Love him anyway. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments. Keep them coming. They make me very happy :)
> 
> ###### 

Simon looked down at his trashed classmate and floundered. This was so not what he’d signed up for when he had agreed to come with Clary to some fancy private boarding school in Bumfuck, New England. He sighed, shoved his glasses up his nose, and looked at Magnus with his best ‘Now what?’ face.

“We have to sober him up,” Magnus stated the obvious.

“Ya think?”

Raphael was still petting his hair, and it was making Simon feel funny in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about too much right now or ever really. Why did the guy have to look like a damn movie star?

Magnus sighed dramatically. “Help me get him on his feet?”

Between the two of them, they pushed and pulled on Raphael until they had him propped up between them. He was still mumbling unintelligible stuff in Spanish. Not that Simon would have understood a word even if Raphael had enunciated as clearly as Simon’s 7th grade Spanish teacher. At least, he was conscious and moving forward on his own, kind of.

“What now?”

“Let’s get him outside,” Magnus said between huffing breaths. “Man, he weighs a ton.”

“It’s not that bad.” Simon rolled his eyes and shifted his grip, pulling Raphael’s arm around his shoulders to take more of his weight. “I’ve schlepped heavier amplifiers.” 

“Remind me to seriously hit on you later.”

Magnus looked at him in a way that made Simon feel like steak dinner. If he had meant to make his pick up line sound sultry, though, it totally hadn’t worked on account of the fact he was huffing like a steam engine.

Simon snickered and shook his head.

“Still in love with Clary, remember?”

Magnus sniffed. “Total waste.”

They maneuvered Raphael out the door and around the corner. Magnus stopped them in front of a hitching rail near the entrance.

“Help me take off his jacket?”

Easier said than done. Raphael was like a semi-liquid, slipping through their hands every time they stopped supporting his weight. It took them forever to wrangle his arms out of the sleeves. Magnus ended up with the jacket in his hands while Simon had both arms full of Raphael.

“Okay,” Magnus said as he stepped away. “One of us is going to have to hold him up and then hold him down, and you kind of volunteered when you turned out to be all super-strong.”

“What are you talking about?”

Simon huffed in irritation as Raphael slid down his front like a sack of potatoes. He hooked his elbows under Raphael’s arms, pulled him back up, and locked his arms around Raphael’s stomach to hold him there.

When Simon finally got the chance to catch up with what Magnus was doing, his eyes widened. He glared at the skinny bastard with every ounce of intimidation he could muster.

“Oh, hell, no. Don’t you dare.”

Part of him wanted to drop Raphael and run, but the guy was barely conscious, and Simon wasn’t that big of an ass.

“Believe me, Simon,” Magnus said as he raised the garden hose in his hands. “I really wish I could say I was sorry about this.”

“I hate you.”

The first blast of ice-cold water hit Raphael straight in the chest and splashed across Simon’s arms.

His reaction was instantaneous.

When Simon had been three or four, his bubbe had owned a cat. One time, he had stood too close when a loud noise had scared the shit out of it. Simon still had the scars from that encounter.

This was a lot like that.

Raphael jumped, whirled around, and dug his fingers into Simon’s shoulders, trying to get away from the frigid water.

As Magnus kept blasting them mercilessly, Raphael shouted his way through probably every entry on Spanish profanity in the urban dictionary.

It was dark, so Simon couldn’t be sure, but if his own chattering teeth were anything to go by, their lips were turning blue.

On the upside, Raphael’s eyes were all the way open again and glaring violent murder at Simon from less than three inches away. Okay, maybe not so much an upside.

“You back with us?” he asked shakily.

Raphael spat out another profanity, pushed his soggy hair back from his forehead, and tried to move away from Simon. His shoes slipped on the muddy ground.

“Assholes,” he hissed through chattering teeth.

“Sorry,” Simon said sincerely, wiping his own dripping face and glasses. “We needed you sober enough to get back to the dorm quietly.”

“Shit.” Raphael groaned and sagged heavily back against Simon’s shoulder. “Still drunk.”

“Yeah, I figured. At least, you’re back to English.”

Magnus turned off the hose and put it away before he sauntered over to them.

“You good?” he asked cautiously.

Simon glared at him, stabilizing Raphael as best he could.

“I think we both hate you right now,” he said calmly, barely controlling his shivering.

“Definitely,” Raphael agreed with a glare at Magnus before he rolled his head to look up at Simon. “Get me back to my room?”

Simon cringed. “If you can tell me how to get there?”

“Hang on,” Magnus said quickly. “I’ll get you blankets, and then I’ll take you both back to your dorms.”

Simon wanted to tell the guy where to shove it, but he was soaked to the bone, freezing to death, and struggling to hold up probably a hundred and fifty pounds of slippery drunk dude by himself.

“Just hurry up,” he snarled through his teeth.

Even tough Simon’s building was technically closer, they staggered along the hedges to Raphael’s dorm first. There was no way Raphael would have made it without Simon’s help. The cold shower had barely put a dent in his intoxicated state.

They maneuvered their way as quietly as possible through the backdoor of Blackthorn Hall and up the stairs.

When Raphael stumbled in the hallway, someone poked their head out the door. Simon nearly had a heart attack, but Magnus didn’t even blink. He simply put a finger to his lips and glared at them. The shadowy figure disappeared back into their room and closed the door.

Magnus waited in the doorway while Simon dropped Raphael on his bed.

He was ready to head back out when a long groan stopped him in his tracks. Simon closed his eyes, pushed his glasses up his nose, and kept moving.

A heavy weight thumped onto the floor behind him. Simon cursed under his breath and turned around.

Raphael was writhing on the floor, his head and arms trapped inside the tight long-sleeve shirt he was struggling to take off.

Magnus tip-toed closer with a gleeful snicker. “My favorite part.”

Simon stopped him with an extended index finger and a forbidding glare that would have made Simon’s mother proud.

“Don’t even.”

He crouched over Raphael and helped him out of his shirt. In the process, Simon ended up touching more of the other boy’s skin than he’d ever intended. He also noticed something that did not bode well for Raphael in the near future.

“Shit, he’s super-hot.”

“You’re telling me?” Magnus purred.

“No,” Simon growled. “I mean he’s burning up.”

Raphael shook his head and mumbled, “I’m freezing.”

“Yeah,” Simon grumbled as he helped him back into bed and under the covers. “I bet you are. You’re probably going to be sick as a dog tomorrow morning.”

“You mean in like four hours?” Magnus quipped unhelpfully from the doorway.

“Shut up.”

Simon took off Raphael’s shoes and socks and chucked them in a corner. Then he floundered. He wasn’t sure he was capable of taking off Raphael’s pants. Not even to remove his soaked jeans in a strictly platonic, care-taking, non-sexy way. He looked over at Magnus, pleading for help.

“He needs to get out of the wet clothes.”

“Don’t look at me,” Magnus teased. “You were the one who insisted I ‘Don’t even’, remember?” He imitated Simon’s earlier threat facetiously.

“I hate you.”

Magnus kissed the air in his direction.

Simon took a deep breath and shook himself. Then he bent over Raphael and shook him by the shoulder.

“Dude,” he said, “take off your pants or I have to do it for you.”

Raphael groaned, but he moved his hands under the blanket. When he started to writhe and kick his legs, Simon reached without looking and grabbed hold of the soggy jeans by his ankles. He tried not to think about what he was doing.

The soaked denim and a pair of soggy boxer briefs landed on the floor with a wet slap.

Simon’s face burned at a million degrees. He was definitely not feeling cold anymore.

“Okay, job’s done. I’m out of here.”

Magnus snickered behind him all the way down the stairs and out the backdoor.

“You are such an asshole,” Simon hissed as quietly as possible as they sneaked along the hedges back to Penhallow Hall.

“I know,” Magnus said, “but that was funny as hell. You should have seen your face.”

When they finally got to his room, Simon almost slammed the door in Magnus’s face. He had enough sense at the last second to close it quietly so they didn’t get busted.

Simon didn’t get much sleep in the next four hours.

At first, his brain was too busy replaying the events of the night, pointing out in minute detail every moment where he had made an ass of himself.

When Cat had sat in his lap and he had started to pop a boner because she had bounced once.

When he had failed to tell people even the simplest things about himself because he had been too busy giving away his pathetic one-sided feelings for Clary.

When Clary had flirted with a homophobic asshole and then the homophobic asshole had made a scene and then Clary had run after him and Simon had done nothing to stop any of it.

When Magnus had hosed him down with ice cold water because Simon hadn’t been smart enough to figure out how to prop Raphael up against the hitching rail so Simon didn’t have to get drenched with him.

When he’d acted like a perv and a prude at the same time about helping Raphael to get out of his wet clothes.

When he’d abandoned Raphael, who was obviously way too drunk and way too sick to be left alone.

_Oh, yeah. It’s been a stellar night, Lewis. Great job. You’re a regular fucking hero._

When it was done going over everything that had actually happened, Simon’s brain spent the next couple hours playing “choose your own horror scenario” about what could happen.

In one of them, Clary went after the homophobe, he flipped out on her and beat her to death.

In another one, Raphael threw up in his sleep and choked to death on his own vomit.

Then there was the one where Headmistress Herondale burst into Simon’s room and accused him of being responsible for both Clary’s and Raphael’s death.

Then Raphael woke up, discovered he was naked, and accused Simon of date raping him and leaving him for dead.

By the time Simon shambled into the dining hall for breakfast, he was completely fried. His eyes skittered all over, looking for Raphael. To make sure he was all right. To make sure he didn’t have the wrong idea about last night. Just to … something.

The dining hall was relatively empty at first. Simon noticed that the homophobic asshole showed up alone and sat at a table by himself. He was relieved Clary didn’t show up with him. About ten minutes later, Alec showed up with his sister, Izzy. They picked a table several spaces away from the asshole.

Simon got nervous again when the hall started to empty out closer to 8:00 am and Raphael still hadn’t showed his face. Neither had Magnus or Cat, but they hadn’t gone to bed drunk and coming down with a fever on top of not eating for two days straight.

_What the hell kind of idiot drinks pure vodka on an empty stomach? _

Simon was so busy worrying and trying to mentally will Raphael to walk through the door that he didn’t notice someone was sitting down opposite him until their tray clattered onto the table.

“We need to talk.”

Simon’s head snapped around to stare at Clary.

“Good morning, Fray” he said pointedly. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for asking. How about you? That was crazy how that asshole just went off on Alec like that, wasn’t it?”

“About that,” Clary said, looking uncomfortable. “It’s more complicated than you think.”

Simon shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. She looked the same. She was still the prettiest girl in the world with her long, fiery hair and beautiful sea-foam green eyes, button nose and soft peach-colored cheeks.

He still didn’t recognize her. The girl who had thrown rocks at Simon’s bullies in Kindergarten was making excuses for a homophobic asshole because …

“What?” Simon snapped. “He’s a good kisser? Just sometimes his tongue moves in the wrong way and toxic shit spews out?”

“No! It’s not that. He really didn’t …” She stumbled over her words and blushed bright red. “He and Alec are best friends. They’re like brothers.”

“Yeah?” Simon rolled his eyes. “With a friend like that, Alec doesn’t need enemies. Clary, he’s a homophobic asshole!”

“He’s not!” Clary yelled. “Jace loves Alec!”

Utensils clattered and several heads turned in their direction.

Simon couldn’t give a shit less.

“Like a brother!” Clary announced loudly. “He loves Alec like a brother.”

Simon snorted. “Should I make room?” He pulled his tray aside. “Do you want to get up on the table and give a passion speech in his defense? I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Simon, why are you being so mean?” Clary’s voice waivered. “I’m trying to talk to you. You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“Yeah, you know what? You’re supposed to be mine, but you sure didn’t act like it last night.”

“What are you talking about?” Clary asked, tears glistening in her eyes. “It’s not like he insulted you.”

Simon made an aborted noise in his throat. What was he even supposed to say to that?

Clary, his Clary, suddenly didn’t give a crap if someone else got hurt because her beau was the one doing the hurting.

“Who even are you?”

Before she could say anything, Simon grabbed the apple, the granola bar, and the toast from his tray and took off.

He had to ask five people before one of them finally was nice enough to point him in the direction of Blackthorn Hall.

By the time he showed up at Raphael’s door, Simon had ten minutes to get to his first class. The room was empty. Raphael’s wet clothes were gone and so was he. For a moment, Simon panicked, but then he saw the suitcase under the bed.

Wherever he was, Raphael wasn’t gone-gone.

“Hey!” Simon stopped a guy in the hallway. “Where’s Raphael?”

“Who?”

“New kid, about my height, dark curly hair, brown eyes.” Simon realized, so far, he was describing himself. “Face like the lead guy in a telenovela, talks like a mafia boss.”

“Oh, him. He went to the infirmary earlier. Didn’t look so good.”

“Where’s the infirmary?”

“Second left behind the Science Building.”

“Thanks.”

Simon was already back down the hall and on the move.

The infirmary was a separate two-story building that would have been called a clinic where Simon came from. He wasn’t convinced the place didn’t have an operating room for emergency plastic surgery in the basement. The reception desk near the entrance looked like every doctor’s office he’d ever been to.

“Um, hi. I’m looking for a friend. Raphael? Is he here?”

The receptionist looked up from her computer screen and raised curious penciled brows at him.

“Don’t you have classes?”

“Yeah, probably.” Simon waved it off. “I just need to make sure he’s all right.”

“Uh-huh.”

She shot him a look that was so loaded with meaning Simon had no idea what she was trying to communicate.

“Please?” He aimed his very best bar mitzvah smile in her direction.

“What was the name again?”

“Raphael.”

“Last name?”

“Uh …”

Simon blanked. He never blanked. He remembered the name of every person he had ever talked to. He was good at this. Why couldn’t he remember Raphael’s last name?

“Santiago.”

Simon jumped about five feet in the air and landed facing in the opposite direction.

Magnus was standing with his hands on his hips and a sly grin on his face.

“About time you showed up,” he drawled. “Thanks, Agnes. I got this one.”

Simon glared at Magnus as he followed him down the hallway.

“What the hell?”

“What?” said Magnus. “Did you really think I wouldn’t check on him? I went back as soon as curfew lifted at 5:30 am.”

“We’re allowed to do that?”

“I am.” Magnus wiggled his fingers at the food in Simon’s hands. “Did you bring that for him?”

“Yeah.” Simon cringed, wondering what he’d been thinking. “Stupid, I know.”

“No, it’s not.” Magnus smiled. “But I’ll take that.”

Magnus dumped the toast in a trash can as they walked past and then opened up the granola bar and took a bite.

“Hey!”

“Cat’s going to want the apple,” Magnus said.

“That was meant for Raphael.”

“I know, but he’s getting his breakfast intravenous for the time being.”

Simon was confused. He couldn’t figure out how to categorize Magnus because the guy kept acting like a jerk half the time while he did genuinely nice stuff the other half.

“You know, I can’t figure you out,” Simon grumbled. “The way you keep acting, I don’t know if you’re a total jerk or not, but you’re definitely a pretty shitty boyfriend.”

Magnus laughed. He didn’t seem insulted at all. His almond shaped eyes had a challenging gleam in them when he looked back at Simon.

“Are you saying you’d do better?”

Simon could feel the heat climb up his face until it burned at a million degrees. That was totally not what he’d meant and he knew that Magnus knew that.

Magnus snickered as he opened the door to one of the patient rooms and sashayed inside.

“Hey, cinna-bun, look what I brought you.”

Magnus flopped down on the bed next to Raphael and wrapped a possessive arm around his shoulders. Simon noticed that Raphael’s arm on the other side was hooked to an IV bag.

“That was pretty stupid, you know,” he blurted out. “Getting d …” He cut himself off, checked that no one was listening and lowered his voice. “Getting drunk like that when you haven’t eaten anything in two days.”

“I know,” Raphael said.

“Oh, can I have that?”

Simon barely felt it when Cat snatched the apple from his fingers. By the time he turned his head, she was already back in the squishy arm chair in the corner, taking a big bite out of the large green fruit.

“Help yourself,” Simon groused before he turned his attention back to Raphael. “Are you okay?”

Raphael shrugged. “It’s just dehydration.”

“You had a pretty high fever.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s really not.”

Simon wasn’t sure where all the stubborn anger in him was coming from, but he wasn’t about to let Raphael brush him off. He’d had about enough of not being taken seriously.

They stared each other down.

“Whew. Is it just me or is it getting a little hot in here?”

Magnus’s flippant drawl broke the spell. Simon shook himself out of it and gnashed his teeth. His gaze moved from Raphael to Magnus with his arm around Raphael’s shoulders and then to Cat sprawled across the arm chair, munching on the apple that Simon had brought for Raphael.

Simon’s presence here was worse than pointless.

_Of course, Lewis, what did you expect? _

“I have to get to class.”

He turned on his heel and got out of there as fast as he could.

When he finally made it to his first class, Simon was thirty minutes late. To his immense relief, the teacher hadn’t locked the door and didn’t make any comment as Simon slid into his seat at the back of the classroom.

He was beginning to think that the school had a lax attendance policy, but his luck ran out as soon as the bell rang.

“Mr. Lewis, please see me for a moment.”

“I’m so sorry I was late,” Simon apologized before he even made it to the teacher’s desk. “A friend of mine ended up in the infirmary and I had to check on him—”

“Be that as it may,” said the teacher, “Alicante Academy has a strict policy on tardiness. A demerit will be added to your record. Since you are new, I should warn you that three demerits will incur a week of detention.”

Simon’s eyes widened. “It won’t happen again.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

Simon had never been threatened with detention before. He wasn’t a trouble maker. He hadn’t even meant to go to the stupid stable party, but Clary had convinced him it was a great way to make new friends.

His mind was reeling as he hurried out of the classroom. He only had five minutes to make it to his next class. As he booked it down the main hallway, he swore a couple of black girls were glowering after him with threatening scowls on their faces.

Simon’s paranoia turned out to be justified when the same two girls cornered him after lunch as soon as he came out of the bathroom.

The shorter girl with a thick mop of dark brown curls hooked her fingers around his left arm while the taller one with long white-blonde hair grabbed his right.

“We need to have a little chat.”

Before Simon knew what was happening, they had marched him to the nearest supply closet and shoved him inside. He almost crashed into the metal shelves and turned around just in time to see the blonde bang the door shut from the outside. Simon was trapped in semi-darkness with the curly-head.

Her eyes looked pitch-black until she reached up and turned on the light inside the closet. Then they were dark brown but no less murderous. When she pulled her thin upper lip into a sneer, Simon half-expected to see fangs. Instead, there was a tiny gap between her two front teeth.

“Listen up, Lewis,” she snarled, rising up on her tip toes to clear the height difference between them and get directly in his face. “I don’t care if your friend is the Princess of Monaco and you got here on the queen’s personal decree, you’re still just a scholarship kid.”

“Yeah, so?” Simon was confused, anxious, and trying very hard not to hyperventilate. He wasn’t good at conflict. Why was everybody around him trying to start one? “And?”

The curly-head actually growled at him. “You can’t be late to class!”

Simon blinked and shook his head in jerky motions. He still didn’t get why this complete stranger was so angry with him for something that was, really, just a minor infraction and would never happen again.

“I know,” he said. “I said I’m sorry. I—”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it around here.”

She pushed him hard in the chest. His back collided sharply with the metal shelves behind him.

“Ow!”

“What you do reflects on all of us.” She grabbed his tie and yanked. “We’re only here because they want to look good. If we screw up, nobody’s going to slap down a million-dollar check or sponsor a new building to smooth over ruffled feathers, do you get that?”

His brows furrowed as the pieces started to come together. This girl was mad because she was scared. She was a scholarship kid, too.

“I get it,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I didn’t mean to screw things up for anyone.”

“Yeah, well, you did, so don’t do it again.”

She let go of his tie with a sniff and stepped back with her hands on her hips. After a few deep breaths, she looked at him with slightly less murderous intent.

“For most of us, this is the only chance we get to make it somewhere. It sucks, and it makes me sick, but we have to play by their rules and be good little charity cases so that maybe, some day, with a whole lot of luck and a buttload of hard work, we can become them.” She trailed her eyes over him from head to toe and shook her head. “Not that you’d know what that’s like.”

Simon didn’t appreciate the way that felt. Like he was somehow a ‘them’ by association. Like she’d already made up her mind about who and what he was.

“Hey, my mom’s not rich, so don’t look at me like that. You know nothing about me.”

“I know your best friend’s mom has the kind of money that can buy you a full ride to this place just to keep her little princess happy.” 

“We’ve been best friends since Kindergarten. It’s not like any of us have control over who our parents are!”

A weird expression crossed the curly girl’s face and she shifted onto her back foot.

“Look, Lewis,” she said, “I’m not telling you to stop hanging out with her or any of them. I’m just telling you to keep in mind that their freedom doesn’t apply to you. They can break the rules. We can’t. They can screw up as many times as they want to. We can’t.” She stopped, did a double take, and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m giving you ‘the speech’.”

Simon wasn’t entirely sure what ‘the speech’ was, except it involved a lot of ‘we’ versus ‘they’ and he’d somehow crossed over the line from ‘they’ to ‘we’ and it was confusing as hell.

“Yeah, okay,” he said dumbly. “By the way, how do you know my name?”

She raised her brows at him. “We have history together.”

He flinched, frowned, huffed out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure we don’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “History. Class. With Mr. Rey? The one you were late for, which is why we’re having this little chat right now.”

“Oh. Oh!” Simon squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like an idiot. “Right.”

She chuckled. “You’re a bit of a goober, aren’t you?”

Simon wasn’t sure if she meant that as an insult or a compliment. He just hoped it wouldn’t stick.

“You never told me your name,” he deflected.

“I’m Maia,” she said. “Unofficial enforcer for the scholarship kids.”

“Yeah,” he said, “I got that part.”

Seeing that Maia had run out of steam, Simon allowed himself to relax a little. He took a look around and shook his head at the ridiculous cliché of their current situation.

“You know, for a place as fancy as this, you’d think they’d have nicer supply closets. This isn’t even as big as the ones in my old school, and that was a public high school in Brooklyn.”

Maia snickered. “That’s because they like to spend their money on flashy things they can show off. I doubt any of them have even looked at the inside of a supply closet like ever.”

Simon waggled his head. Then he stopped. “Wait, so rich kids don’t make out in supply closets?”

Maia rolled her eyes again. “Have you seen their dorm rooms?”

Simon frowned. “Do I even want to know?”

“You’ll find out one way or the other.”

The shrill chime of bells announced the end of lunch break. The door flew open and the tall girl stuck her white-blonde head in. Her heart shaped face was pinched in a mean scowl.

“Are you done with him? We have like five minutes to get to the lab.”

“Crap.”

Maia swung around to glare at him one more time. Simon raised his hands in surrender.

“We’re good,” he said. “Promise.”

After his last class of the day, Simon went back to his dorm room, picked up his gear, and headed to the gym.

When Clary had tried to sell him on going to Alicante together, she had put extra emphasis on the detail that the academy had its own archery club that regularly participated in national competitions. She had literally waggled the brochures in Simon’s face.

Why Clary had thought she needed to convince him on the idea of not saying goodbye was beyond Simon’s comprehension. She could have asked him to go literally to hell with her and his answer would have been nothing short of an enthusiastic “Of course.” 

At least, up until yesterday.

An uncomfortable feeling pinched his gut at the memory of their fight at breakfast. Simon wasn’t so sure the answer would still be the same today.

He shook his head to clear out the morose thought and pulled open the heavy glass door to let himself into one of the three connected buildings that made up the gym.

Simon found the locker rooms first. He changed into a black t-shirt and sweat pants, strapped on his armguard, and followed a succession of signs to the smallest of the three halls. It was still enormous when compared to the gym at his old high school.

Two separate areas had been set up on either end of the spacious room. Bulls-eye targets lined up against one far wall; a cluster of cube-shaped target bags dotted the opposite side.

A small group of guys was milling about, waiting for the instructor. The only girl on the team sat on a bench off to the side, checking over her blood red compound bow. 

Simon's eyes nearly bugged out when he recognized the model. She was fiddling around with several thousand dollars of equipment in her lap.

Suddenly nervous, Simon found an inconspicuous place by the wall and checked out everyone else’s gear. There wasn’t a bow in the place that was worth less than a used car.

_Great, I’m going to be the guy with the clunker among the Lamborghinis. _

Not that his five-year-old Hoyt was a clunker, really. It had been a top of the line compound bow when it had come out. Of course, Simon would never have been able to afford it then. He had bought it used a year ago from a reputable place. He’d even invested in a new bowstring and release.

Unfortunately, everyone else had the current year model of the most popular brands.

Everyone except one: a tall, dark-haired guy with an awesome armguard who stood at the edge of the group. That guy’s bow was two years old. Simon knew because two years ago he’d been drooling over that bow on the internet, wishing he could afford it.

Simon couldn’t help it. He was drawn like a bug to the zapper.

“Dude, you got the limited edition X4? I’d do anything to put my hands on that.”

The guy turned around with raised brows and a mildly annoyed expression on his face.

Simon literally screeched to a halt, sneakers squeaking on the gym floor. He had just stated loudly and emphatically that he was willing to do anything in order to touch Alec Lightwood’s equipment.

The leering, cat-calls, and snickering that followed were a given. Some guy even had the bad taste to drawl, “That’s what he said.”

“Oh, grow the fuck up,” Simon snapped back reflexively. His eyes widened. “Shit. I’m not supposed to curse.” He snapped his mouth shut. “Crap.”

Alec stared at him, unblinking.

“I’m sorry. I’m bad …” Simon pointed at his face. “Filter. People. Mouth. Brain.” He took a deep breath and tried again. “Talking in front of people with a filter between my brain and mouth. I suck at it.”

_There, that came out right, right?_

Alec was still staring at him. He still hadn’t blinked.

_Guess not._

“How are you?” he tried again. “I mean with last night and everything.”

“I was fine,” said Alec. “Until you and your bestie decided to announce my personal business to everyone at breakfast this morning.”

Simon’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Alec cut him off before he could say anything.

“So, if you want to do me a favor,” he rumbled, “both of you just stay the hell away from Jace and me.” 

Simon reared back in shock as Alec blew past him and stormed out of the gym to the sound of more jeering and snickering.

The last thing Simon had meant to do was make things worse for the guy who was already down in the dumps because his best friend had turned out to be an asshole.

He wanted to go after Alec, but he wasn’t sure if extra-curriculars counted like regular classes for tardiness, and he was so not ready to deal with another demerit or the wrath of Maia that would inevitably follow.

Out of options, Simon stayed behind and sat down on the opposite end of the bench where the girl was still fiddling with her bow.

“Hi,” he said hesitantly. “I’m Simon.”

“Lydia Branwell,” she said, flipping her tight blonde French braid over her shoulder. “I’m Alec’s girlfriend.”

Simon closed his eyes and pushed up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

_Of course, you are._


	5. Messed Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the inside of Alec's head. If you thought Simon had it bad ...
> 
> ###### 

Alec burst out of the gym and power-walked across campus to his dorm. He didn’t bother acknowledging anyone who called after him.

He kept his head held high and his face impassive until he was alone in his room with the door firmly closed and locked behind his back. Only then did he allow himself to release a shaking breath and let his face crumple.

As quick as it had happened, he forced it back. He banged the back of his head resolutely against the door until the burning sting drowned out everything else.

Alec had always taken pride in his self-control. Robert and Maryse Lightwood had great expectations of their first-born son, and he usually managed to exceed them.

They had had his life mapped out before he had even started preschool. After Alicante, he would go to Harvard for law and political science and a suitably modest wife. A stint in the military, a couple of kids, a career in politics: the House, the Senate, then maybe the presidency. He would be a respectable moderate for life, not too hawkish but not too dovish, progressive but not too progressive. Church on Sundays. Born in Virginia, buried in DC.

Being gay had not been part of the plan.

Alec had probably been different his whole life. He had known for certain by the time he was twelve. When all of his friends had wanted to be like the superheroes in the movies, Alec had wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

Not long after that, he had found out what his mother would think about that without ever having to ask.

She had walked into the living room while Alec had been binging some teen drama on the big TV. Half-way through the scene, the two male characters on screen had shared a passionate kiss.

His mother had clicked her tongue and made a noise of disgust low in her throat. That was all Alec had needed to know.

He could have lived with it, but things got so much worse two years later.

Right around Alec’s fourteenth birthday, he and Jace had been horsing around in the pool when it had hit him like a brick to the face that Jace wasn’t just his best friend. He was confident and sexy, and Alec wanted to kiss him, and touch him, and do some of the stuff he had only read about in smutty fanfiction because he was too much of a chicken-shit to visit a real gay porn site on the internet.

He somehow had still managed to keep his secret.

No one had questioned Alec’s sudden aversion to swimming pools and contact sports. Archery had been considered a respectable choice since it required focus, precision, and a certain amount of physical strength. Alec had quickly learned to ignore Jace’s oblivious Robin Hood themed jibes about men in tights.

Everything had been under control.

Until Izzy’s 15th birthday party had happened in May, and someone had slipped a pill into Alec’s drink, and he had made a terrible mistake that no amount of wishing or hoping could ever take back.

Alec’s stomach turned. He vaulted himself across the room into the en-suite bathroom, flipped back the toilet seat, and purged whatever he’d managed to choke down for lunch.

He straightened up and flushed the toilet but didn’t bother to put the seat down.

His reflection made him want to punch the mirror above the sink. He didn’t. He gently pried it open, took his toothbrush and toothpaste from the cabinet behind it, and brushed his teeth for exactly two minutes, taking care to scrub his tongue and the back of his teeth.

When he put his toothbrush back, his eyes landed on the orange container of pills next to the bottle of aspirin. His name glared at him in bold letters from the prescription label.

Alec sighed, grabbed the container, and shook out two of the pills. He swallowed them dry, put the half-empty container back on the shelf, and avoided his reflection as he closed the mirror cabinet.

Another one of Alec’s sordid little secrets. He wondered how long it would take before this one was all over school, too.

Of course, it was his own fault that he’d crashed out of the closet last night. If he’d just kept his damn mouth shut, nobody would have ever had to know. Well, nobody but Jace.

Instead, Alec had created a spectacle that had caused the party prince of Alicante to treat him like a pity project for the rest of the night and subsequently had gotten Alec’s unrequited gay feelings announced to all and sundry by the four-eyed dork and the stupid little red-headed slut who had been the reason Alec had tried to talk to Jace in the first place.

All he had meant to do was warn his best friend that the girl was jail bait and not worth the trouble. He hadn’t even been jealous. Much. Until she had started sucking Jace’s face.

Alec grunted in disgust. He left the bathroom, but not before he had put down the toilet seat and washed his hands again.

He stowed away his archery gear and went through his closet for a clean uniform.

It was almost time for dinner. If he didn’t show up, his little sister would just come and pester him until he went anyway. Plus, he was supposed to take the medication with food so it didn’t mess up his stomach.

Twenty minutes later, Alec strode into the mess hall with his head held high. The guy behind the counter handed him a tray of whatever was on the menu for dinner. Alec took it and found the table where Izzy was already waiting for him. Jace was nowhere to be seen.

“Did you take them?” she said quietly as he sat down.

“Quit bugging me,” he muttered back.

“Did you?” she insisted.

“Yes,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Good.”

They didn’t talk after that, but Izzy kept shooting pointed glances at his plate. Alec shoved a fork full of tasteless food into his mouth and made a show of chewing and swallowing it.

A tray dropped next to his on the table.

“Sorry I’m late.”

Lydia sat down next to him, wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. Her lips felt like cold rubber against his. When she pulled back with a loud smack, her blue eyes gleamed with defiance. Her smile looked as cold and rubbery as it had felt.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hi,” he echoed numbly.

Behind him, Izzy snorted and mumbled a sarcastic “o-kay” under her breath.

Lydia appeared unfazed. “I’m sorry you missed archery practice. I whooped the new kid’s butt.”

Alec smirked. “I’m sure you did.”

“Oh, and I expect you to take me shopping this weekend. I picked my dress for FF, and we’re not going to have another mismatch disaster like last year. I swear, you are hopeless when it comes to fashion.” She looked around Alec to raise her brows at Izzy. “Men, am I right?”

Alec closed his eyes and sighed.

As far as public relations spin went, Lydia’s machinations were crude but effective. Obviously, he couldn’t be gay if his girlfriend was still kissing him in public, bossing him around about the Fall Formal, and proclaiming his ineptitude at anything related to fashion.

“It won’t matter what I wear,” he said smoothly. “You’re going to be so beautiful I doubt they’ll even notice me.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet.” She pressed another rubbery kiss to his cheek. “But that won’t get you out of shopping.”

As Lydia laid out her plans in detail, Alec’s mind drowned her out. This whole show wasn’t for him. It was for everyone else in the mess hall. As long as he played his part of the dutiful boyfriend, the rumors would go away eventually.

His gaze drifted across the room. He almost laughed at all the faces turning quickly to avoid him. Everyone was trying so hard not to look in his direction while they hung on Lydia’s every word. That was why Alec was surprised when his gaze crossed a pair of eyes that didn’t shy away.

Magnus Bane was staring directly at him from a few tables over. His dark brown eyes were slightly narrowed, the sharp black lines of kohl around them highlighting their feline shape. His glossy lips were pursed in a shrewd smile, calling attention to his prominent cheekbones.

Alec’s shoulders stiffened. He sat up straighter and kept his expression smooth and impassive.

Lydia grabbed his hand and made a show of linking their fingers on top of the table.

Alec didn’t like the feeling in the pit of his stomach when Magnus Bane rolled his eyes, shook his head, and turned away. His hand slipped out of Lydia’s grip on its own accord.

He scrambled to pick up his fork from the other side of his plate to cover up the blunder. Lydia’s subtle glare tried to bore a hole through his temple, but she never even paused in her monologue.

Alec hated himself for it, but his eyes kept going back to Magnus Bane.

_Nomen est omen._

The party prince of Alicante was certainly a major nuisance. Alec had had to deal with the fallout of Magnus Bane’s antics in more than one student council meeting over the past two years. Judging by last night’s party, the fact that this was their senior year would not make a difference.

Personally, Alec had done his best to steer clear of Bane and had managed quite admirably. Even though Izzy had strong-armed Alec into attending a few of the prince’s parties, their paths had never actually crossed.

Bane would always be in the middle of an adoring crowd, holding court. Alec would be tucked away in an unobtrusive corner and watch over his little sister until it was time to take her back to her dorm.

Until last night.

Cold dread slithered down Alec’s spine as he remembered the way Jace’s eyes had gleamed when he’d called Alec a faggot and pushed him away.

It made him sick to the stomach, looking back, how he’d cowered behind a girl, unable to do anything but shake like a kicked dog in the face of Jace’s unexpected malice.

To add to Alec’s humiliation, everyone else had come down on his side of the fight. Even Bane’s latest boy-toy had looked ready and more than able to punch Jace’s lights out.

In retrospect, maybe Alec should have expected it. Magnus Bane was openly pansexual. There wasn’t any permutation of sex and gender excluded from his flirtations. In Bane’s own words, the only thing he didn’t do was dull.

At the moment, Bane was engaged in a heated conversation with his perpetual accomplice, Catarina Loss. She looked irritated. Whatever the reason, she clearly thought it was Bane’s fault.

A sudden move of her head locked their gazes. Alec forced himself not to avert his eyes. Catarina pursed her lips and turned her attention back to Bane.

Alec wished he could see the expression on Bane’s face. He wondered if they were talking about him.

A sudden burst of pain on the inside of his forearm made Alec snap to attention. Lydia’s fingernails were digging into his skin.

“For Christ’s sake,” she hissed under her breath. “Stop staring at Bane or do you want everyone to think the rumors are true?”

Her rubbery smile never wavered, but her nails felt like the rounded tips of butter knives driving into his arm.

Alec found he didn’t mind the pain.

“Sorry,” he lied.

For the remainder of dinner, Alec kept his eyes firmly glued to the unappetizing food on his plate. Afterward, he excused himself under the pretense of working on an essay that wasn’t due for three weeks.

He was determined to talk to Jace. Now that their dirty laundry had been aired in public, avoiding each other would only make things worse.

Alec found him by the new horse stables, leaning over the wooden fence that ringed the training paddock. Dressed down to faded blue jeans and a T-shirt, with one heavy boot braced on the lowest beam of the fence, he looked like a real country boy.

Jace could do that, no matter where he was. He slipped into any environment, joined any crowd, with absolute confidence and was perfectly at ease.

Alec had always envied that ability. He was completely out of his depth any time he was confronted with a situation he hadn’t prepared for in advance.

The upcoming conversation was going to be a nightmare. He still hadn’t figured out what to say to Jace. All he knew was that they needed to get on the same page if they ever wanted the rumors to go away.

As Alec walked closer, he realized Jace was watching someone inside the corral. He followed Jace’s gaze and squinted at the person riding the chestnut pony.

Whoever it was had terrible posture. They held the reigns too loosely and kept forgetting to keep their heels down. When the pony jumped into an unsteady canter, the rider’s fiery red braid flew back and thumped down between their shoulders.

Alec sneered. _Of course, it’s her._

The urge to yell at Jace was immediate and overwhelming. Alec somehow managed to swallow it down. He pushed his fists into the pockets of his slacks and approached Jace with a neutral expression.

“Can we talk?”

Jace didn’t turn around. The only indication that he had heard Alec was a noticeable hardening of his shoulders. Alec gritted his teeth and tried again.

“I shouldn’t have caused a scene last night. I’m sorry.”

Jace’s head did spin around at that. He scowled. His nostrils flared. His large hands clamped down on the top beam of the fence so hard Alec worried it would break.

“Careful, you’ll catch a splinter.”

“Jesus!” Jace snapped. “What the fuck is it going to take?” He pushed himself away from the fence and prowled toward Alec, eyes flashing. “Stay away from me. Stop trying to ... Don’t you get it?”

Alec stumbled back. “What?”

“What do I have to do? Do I need to fuck her in front of your face? Is that it? Do I need to literally show you how much I like pussy? I mean, you should already know. You’ve only been listening to me tell you in detail about every girl I’ve ever fucked for the last three years.”

“Jace.”

It hurt. It hurt so much he couldn’t breathe, and when Alec finally managed to suck in some air, it went down like liquid fire, burning his eyes.

“Don’t you fucking cry.” Jace pushed him square in the chest.

That did it. Alec flipped. All the rage and all the hurt and everything that had been riding him since Izzy’s birthday party roared up through him and came out in one wild punch.

It struck Jace’s face with a sad wet slap, but Alec was too busy swinging his other fist to care. Jace’s stomach felt like a brick wall before it caved like pudding. He went down with a grunt.

Alec’s knees screamed with the impact, but he dropped right on top of Jace and kept pummeling him, trying to land punches where Jace’s raised arms didn’t protect him.

Somewhere through the adrenaline roaring in his ears Alec thought he heard Jace wheeze, “Yeah, that’s it!”

“Stop!”

The high-pitched voice kept screaming hysterically, but Alec wasn’t listening. He could barely see anything, his vision reduced to the points where his fists impacted.

He hauled back for another punch. Teeny tiny hands with sparkly mint-colored fingernails grabbed his arm.

Alec nearly hurled the girl into the fence before a lifetime of conditioning froze him in place. He kept his body perfectly still. His arm remained tense and ready to strike. He turned his head.

“Let go.”

Clary Fray did the opposite. She tightened her grip on his arm and tried in vain to pull him off Jace.

“Don’t you see he’s letting you hit him!” she screeched.

“Clary, don’t.” Jace’s voice was muffled behind his arms. “Stay out of it.”

“No!” she insisted. “This is stupid. You’re hurt. Making him hate you is not going to solve anything!”

Alec reared back and pushed himself to his feet. His heart was pumping furiously in his chest.

Jace was still lying on the ground, covering his face with his arms.

It didn’t make any sense. Jace was a fighter. He was good at it. He had a damn blue belt in judo.

_Yeah, that’s it._

Jace had let Alec hit him. He’d taken all the punches without swinging back even once.

The question rode up Alec’s throat on a wave of acid bile.

“Why?”

Jace lowered his arms and looked up at him with glistening eyes. His beautiful face was screwed up in pain that had nothing to do with the pale red imprint of Alec’s fist on his cheek.

“Because it’s better this way.”

“Better than what?” Alec barked.

“Better than Alpine View.”

Alec’s eyes widened. He stopped breathing and glanced at the girl to see how much she knew. Her doll face was blank with confusion.

“Don’t you dare tell her.” Alec pressed the words through his teeth.

“Tell me what?” she asked immediately.

Alec whipped his head around and glared at her for a long moment. When he turned back, it seemed Jace’s gaze hadn’t left Alec the whole time, waiting for them to lock eyes.

“Never,” he said fiercely. “Alec, I …”

The expression on Jace’s face was too much. Alec shook his head, turned his back, and walked away.

He stormed back into Penhallow Hall with an hour to go until curfew and every intention to be left alone. True to his luck, he didn’t even make it up the stairs.

“Lightwood!”

Alec squared his shoulders and turned around with a neutral expression on his face.

Magnus Bane stood inside the cased archway to the common room. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, one shoulder leaning casually against the wooden frame.

Alec tried to hide his shock behind a polite smile.

“How can I help you, Bane?”

He had no idea why the party prince would go out of his way to talk to him now. Alec hadn’t said a single word to him last night, not even after the embarrassing scene with Jace. Then again, there had been that moment at dinner earlier.

Bane snorted. “I’m not the one who needs help.”

He pushed himself off the doorway and sauntered over, narrow hips swaying as he moved.

Alec’s heart stuttered. His hands felt clammy and his knuckles stung. His throat was too tight to speak.

“That was quite the show at dinner,” Bane purred. “I came to check if …”

Alec barely had time to blink before the guy was right in front of him. Spiky black hair tickled the tip of Alec’s nose as Bane cradled his right fist in both hands. The long, gentle fingers burned hot against his cold skin.

“What the hell happened?” Furious cat eyes rose from Alec’s bashed knuckles to glare at him. “Did that buffoon start another fight? I hope you buried him this time.” 

“I…”

“Come on, I’ll fix you up. I have stuff in my room.”

Alec tried to pull away, but Bane had an iron grip on his wrist and half-dragged him up the stairs. Too baffled to know what to do, Alec let him.

He had known they lived in the same dorm. It was impossible not to know when Alec had to listen to most of Bane’s conquests pass his room on their walk of shame down the hallway the morning after.

Despite the occasional fleeting temptation to see what all the fuss was about, Alec had never actually set eyes on the prince’s lair.

It was pretty much what he had expected: eccentric art cluttering the walls; a needlessly oversized bed with gaudy sheets; and a walk-in closet that looked like Milan Fashion Week had a drunk threesome with Coachella and the Cannes Festival.

“You don’t have a bathroom?”

“Oh, I do.” Bane pushed him down onto a chintzy chaise lounge. “It’s just an architectural brain fart.”

He sashayed his way through a mess of scattered clothes deep into the closet and pulled on a rack of shoes that turned out to be attached to the back of the bathroom door.

“I don’t know what they were thinking,” Bane forced the door open against a small pile of clothes on the floor. “I can only imagine the architect was a hermit with no concept of fashion, because there is no other way this could have happened.”

“Right,” Alec said numbly.

He watched, mesmerized, as Bane flittered around the bright-white room on the other end of his colorful closet, grabbing and discarding bottles and jars and pushing aside multiple palettes of eye makeup. He finally came back out with a rectangular brown plastic bottle, a package of cotton balls, and a box of adhesive bandages.

Bane placed the items on the floor and crouched down in front of Alec’s knees.

“Now, let me see the poor things.”

Alec sat perfectly still and stared like an idiot while Bane dabbed his bloody knuckles with cotton balls soaked in alcohol. He barely felt the sting. He was too distracted by the sensation of elegant, bejeweled fingers around his wrist and the unguarded expression on Bane’s face.

There was no way the guy didn’t know what he was doing, but it certainly looked like he was oblivious. His gorgeous eyes were slightly narrowed, hyper-focused on the job. He didn’t look up or linger in one spot or make any sort of flirtatious commentary. He didn’t even pause before he pursed his lips and blew cool air across Alec’s knuckles.

Alec’s breath hitched.

Bane froze. “Sorry.”

He finally looked up. His expression was that of someone caught in a blunder.

Alec’s gaze got stuck on the glossy pink bottom lip caught between Bane’s teeth. He licked his own lips and wondered what it would feel like if ...

Magnus Bane kissed him.

His mouth was warm and soft and a little bit sticky with gloss. The smell of sage and spearmint surrounded Alec as the solid weight of a warm body dropped onto his thighs and burning hot fingers cradled his jaw as if it were fragile.

Something inside Alec broke.

He grabbed Magnus by the hips and kissed him back. He had no idea what he was doing, but when he slipped his tongue over Magnus’s lips, they parted quickly and a slick, agile tongue coaxed him inside.

The flavor of spearmint and sour candy burst inside Alec’s mouth. Magnus exhaled a happy little moan and rolled his hips forward. The firm pressure against his lap shot a bolt of current up Alec’s spine as the noise reverberated in his chest.

It was everything a first kiss was supposed to be.

It was nothing like Alec’s real first kiss had been.

His eyes snapped open. He clutched Magnus’s shoulders and pushed. His fingers twitched at the surprising amount of muscle in the lean arms. Magnus resisted and, unlike Lydia, he wasn’t easily pushed away. Alec dropped his hands and turned his head to break their lip-lock.

“What’s wrong?”

Magnus’s voice was raspy and he sounded dazed. When Alec forced himself to look, the deep-brown eyes that met his gaze were glassy and unfocused, their pupils blown wide as if Magnus was stoned. His hands still cradled Alec’s jaw, thumbs brushing feather-light over his cheeks.

“I can’t do this,” Alec confessed.

“From my seat, you’re doing amazingly well.”

Magnus rolled his hips again, making both of them suck in a quick breath. Alec exhaled with a frustrated growl.

“No, Magnus. Stop.”

Magnus removed his hands from Alec’s face and shifted back until he was sitting on Alec’s knees, but he didn’t climb off. His elegant brows furrowed over his nose and he was watching Alec far too intensely, as if he was trying to read his mind.

“What’s the problem?”

Alec opened his mouth but nothing came out. He averted his eyes. They landed on the gaudy tiger-striped comforter and black satin sheets. Instantly, Alec wondered how many people Magnus had screwed on those sheets.

No matter how messed up things were right now, Alec was not ready to be a notch on the party prince’s bedpost.

“This isn’t me,” he said firmly. “You’re not adding me to your collection.”

He pushed Magnus off him maybe harder than he had meant to. The guy almost fell on his ass before he jumped to his feet with both hands raised in defense.

“Chill, darling,” Magnus drawled. “No need to act like I’m some bodice-ripper scoundrel trying to take your virginity. You wanted to kiss me.”

“Yeah, and now I don’t.” Alec bolted out of the chaise and beat a hasty retreat. “So, bye.”

He slipped through the door and bolted down the hallway to his own room. He was too chicken-shit to look over his shoulder and see if Magnus had followed him.

Standing with his back against the locked door, Alec’s knees almost buckled. For the second time that day, he banged the back of his head against the wood until the burning sting drowned out everything else.

Everything except the persistent erection trapped in his boxer briefs.

Alec cursed under his breath and yanked down his pants, hoping the sharp discomfort would make the problem go away on its own. It didn’t.

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes, wadded them into a ball, and tossed them in the corner. That lasted all of ten seconds before he picked them back up and put them in the hamper.

Alec stalked into the bathroom and started the shower. Determined to get rid of his problem, he turned the knob all the way to the coldest setting and twisted the shower head to the highest pressure. His wrist burned as the frigid water blasted his skin.

He gritted his teeth and stepped under the spray.

His breath shuddered out of him as the water pelted his head and back. It plastered his hair to his forehead and ran into his open mouth. For a moment, Alec thought about nothing. There were only the sensations of wet and cold and needles burning under his skin, lighting up every nerve in his body.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut, tilted his head back, and let the icy liquid fill his mouth until it spilled over. Among the frosty needle-stings, the rivulets of heat streaming from his eyes and over the corners of his mouth were just another unfiltered sensation.

Afterward, Alec lay naked on top of the sheets and stared blindly at the ceiling, chasing the feeling.

His skin was hot and tight all over. He could feel sweat break out on his chest, under his arms, and between his legs. His erection was back, harder than before.

Alec closed his eyes and slid his hand down, ready to take care of the problem with a few perfunctory strokes.

The moment his hand touched the base of his shaft, the mental image of long, scorching fingers with heavy silver rings flashed through his mind.

His eyes flew open on a sharp breath. Instead of the white ceiling, his brain insisted he was looking at gorgeous brown cat eyes, slightly narrowed with intense focus, staring right through his defenses into his mind.

Alec’s hand moved without conscious thought. He tasted spearmint and sour candy on his tongue, felt the heat of Magnus’s weight press down on his thighs. Rippling tension pooled in his core and trickled like electric current up his spine.

Two short, sharp raps reverberated against the locked door.

“Mr. Lightwood?”

Alec choked. Hand frozen mid-stroke, eyes wide and blind, he forced himself to swallow and took a shallow breath.

_Sound casual._ “Yeah, I’m here.”

There was no response. There never was. The dorm head was paid to check that everyone was in their room by curfew, not to make conversation.

Alec’s heart pumped furiously. His hand was still wrapped around his dick. He was still hard. His body was thrumming with adrenaline and so close to release he could feel it draw up his balls.

He slapped his free hand over his mouth and kept going. His eyes rolled back as the fantasy returned. The hand across his mouth wasn’t his. It was slender and elegant, with heavy silver rings and manicured black nails. The beautiful golden-brown fingers slipped, pinched his nose between forefinger and thumb, cut off his air mid-breath.

Alec came so hard his hips jolted off the bed and stars exploded behind his eyes.

When he came back around, he was freezing cold and exhausted. The messy aftermath of his climax was all over his stomach, sticking to the hair below his belly button.

“Eurgh.”

Alec lashed out with one arm and grabbed some tissues from the box on his bedside table.

He couldn’t believe he had jerked off to a fantasy of Magnus Bane. He didn’t even like the guy. He was in love with Jace.

A traitorous part of Alec’s brain took sadistic pleasure in pointing out the fact that no dirty or romantic fantasy about Jace had ever made him come that hard.

_Screw you, brain._

Alec dumped the dirty tissues in the trashcan under his bedside table, turned off the lights, and crawled back into bed.

He rolled himself up inside the blue plaid comforter his mother had insisted would complement the curtains that she had also picked. The warmth from the thick cotton blanket soaked into him and made his bones feel heavy.

For the first time since May, Alec fell asleep within minutes.


	6. FF

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the glorious, glittering inside of Magnus Bane's head! Enjoy the trip. 
> 
> I love all the Kudos and Comments. Please feel free to share your thoughts here, since I don't tweet, tumble, insta, or snap.
> 
> Any mistakes are mine alone because I don't have a beta reader (raise your hand if you're willing and able).
> 
> Without further ado...

Golden Valley was a beautiful thing to behold. Its hallowed halls were a holdover from ancient times when big department stores had still been a thing and long before online shopping had existed.

Magnus thrived with the energy of it all from the minute he stepped through the faux-Roman Arch onto the white marble floor tiles. He spread his arms dramatically and absorbed the atmosphere.

“This is where I want to go after I die.”

Beside him, Raphael made a choked noise in his throat.

When Magnus looked over at his quiet new friend, he almost burst out laughing. There was a blank stare in his soulful brown eyes, and his dark brows were deeply furrowed in disbelief. On an unrelated note, those brows could use a good tweezing.

“What’s wrong, cinna-bun? Not a fan of malls?”

Raphael hummed and shrugged one shoulder. “I shop online.”

“But that’s hardly any kind of experience!” Magnus scoffed.

He linked his arm through Raphael’s and walked further into the building, steering them toward the west wing.

“This is going to be great,” he promised. “You’ll see. Cat texted. She’ll meet us by the fountain.”

Raphael rolled his eyes and muttered, “Of course, there’s a fountain.”

“Oh, hush.” Magnus smacked his arm.

Luckily, Raphael relented and let Magnus drag him along. After the night at the party, Magnus was pretty sure his delicious cinna-bun was an immovable object if he truly didn’t want to go somewhere.

“We need to get you some new clothes and definitely a suit for FF. Have you decided who you want to go with yet?” Magnus kept his tone light and teasing. “I hear Isabelle Lightwood is still looking for a date.”

Raphael stopped dead, confirming the immovable object theory.

“I thought we were going together as friends,” he rumbled.

Magnus smiled big. That was exactly what he had wanted to hear. He didn’t think he could juggle Raphael, Cat, Simon, and a plus one all in one night. Especially not when his thoughts had been preoccupied with a certain tall, dark, and handsome guy who plagued his every waking moment and came back for encores in his dreams.

“Just checking,” he said and patted Raphael’s arm. “Now, come on. I’m sure they’re already waiting for us, and you know how Cat gets when we’re late.”

“You,” said Raphael. “She gets that way when you’re late.”

Magnus crinkled his nose and flashed the tip of his tongue. “Same thing.”

Catarina was, in fact, already waiting for them, surveilling the premises with her best military scowl. Magnus would never tell her, but it made her look exactly like her dad who was actually a colonel or something in the Army.

She sat at one of the convenient bistro tables around the fountain. Opposite her, Simon was fidgeting in his chair, one knee bouncing under the table as he tore up a paper napkin between his fingers, spreading confetti everywhere.

Magnus rubber-banded when Raphael stopped dead again.

“You didn’t say he was coming.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind?” Magnus put his cutest face forward, going for maximum cajoling. “Please, just bear with it?”

For the past three days, Magnus had been trying to figure out how to fix the thing that had broken between Simon and Raphael in the hospital room the morning after his party. He still didn’t have the slightest clue what had broken or how it had broken in the first place.

The problem was that Cat thought he knew, and she was putting the blame at his feet, so obviously Magnus had to do everything in his power to make her forgive him. Hence, the shopping trip with guerrilla ambush.

Raphael did not look happy. His whole face closed off and his eyes narrowed just enough that his lower lids bulged slightly. Then his broad shoulders did that tense, hunched up thing that would be unspeakably hot if it wasn’t also a clear indication that he was on edge and ready to hit someone. Preferably not Magnus.

“Please?” Magnus wheedled. “Whatever it is, can’t you just pretend like it didn’t happen for a couple hours? Pretty please with sex and whipped cream?”

Raphael’s expression derailed. It was the best way Magnus could describe it.

On a happy note, his shoulders dropped down to their regular position. Magnus could almost see all those sexy, broad muscles relax under the dark blue quilted silk. Gifting that jacket to Raphael had been one of his more genius decisions.

“Just kidding about the sex,” he purred, “but I desperately need you to try to forgive Simon if you can. For Cat? For me?”

“I’m not…” Raphael trailed off with a scowl.

As Magnus looked at him, waiting for him to continue, the slightest tinge of pink crept up over Raphael’s strong jaw and suffused his pinchable cheeks.

“I’m not mad at him.” Raphael’s voice was so low and quiet it was barely more than a guttural growl.

“Then why are you putting me through this?” Magnus threw his hands up with a frustrated noise. “Do you have any idea what Cat has been doing to me for the past three days? She took my Clandestine Obsession!”

Raphael cringed. “I don’t want to know.”

Magnus huffed. “It’s eyeshadow. Exclusive eyeshadow. My exclusive eyeshadow.” He grabbed Raphael by the arm and pulled. “Now, come on.”

Raphael dutifully trudged along. Magnus walked them both up to the table. Ignoring Cat, he pushed Raphael in front of Simon with a hearty thump between the shoulders for good measure.

“Kiss or don’t, but for heaven’s sake make up already. I want my palette back.”

There was some nervous stuttering on Simon’s part and a murderous glare from Raphael that would get some lucky girl’s panties very wet one day. In the end, they exchanged apologies that made no sense to anyone but them, but it didn’t matter.

Magnus was happy because Cat was happy, and they could all enjoy this shopping trip together the way God, aka Magnus, had intended.

It took thirteen stores and all three levels of the mall to reassemble a complete wardrobe for Raphael. In the meantime, Cat had been trying on about a billion dresses and had found all of them lacking.

Magnus could only agree. It was as if the Gods of Fashion had turned against them and decided to offer nothing but the lamest and most outdated of formal gowns. If he had to see Cat put on one more sweetheart neckline with a princess skirt, he was going to scream bloody murder and buy a chainsaw just so he could destroy the hideous things.

“I don’t know what to do,” she snarled in frustration. “Magpie, this is horrible. I swear if I can’t find a dress in the next store, I’m going naked.”

“Yeah, right,” said Magnus at the same time that Raphael stated firmly, “No, you won’t.” and Simon moaned, “Please, don’t.”

“Then I’ll just wear a tux,” she shot back.

Magnus raised his brows as the idea snaked sexy tendrils into his mind.

“It could work,” he purred.

Simon looked thoughtful and relieved that the idea of ‘naked’ was off the table.

“We still need to get our tuxes anyway,” he said.

Raphael sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They all walked into the tailor shop together. Magnus got the attention of the man behind the counter with a wave of his black credit card and put Catarina front and center.

“Her first. We’re going for early 2000s Janelle Monae with a strong note of 2010s Rhianna. Can you manage?”

The tailor raised his pierced black brow and clicked his tongue as if the mere suggestion he couldn’t manage was a grave insult.

“For sure. Are we thinking silk or velvet?”

“Silk,” said Magnus firmly, hearing Raphael and Cat chorus the thought.

He turned around and found Simon doing his best impression of an awkward ‘Before’ picture in the corner by the belts and suspenders.

“Then him.” Magnus pointed a sharp finger at Simon’s back. “He needs a confidence boost. There’s a gorgeous boy under all that …” He wiggled his fingers, looking for a description that wasn’t too mean. “Blah.”

The tailor leaned to the side and squinted at Simon. His wide russet lips pursed with a skeptical expression.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

Magnus glared. “Trust me.”

“What about you two?” the tailor asked, motioning between Magnus and Raphael.

“The works, of course,” Magnus responded smoothly. “Bonus points if you can weave a common theme through all our outfits.”

The tailor looked at the four of them with a long umber index finger pressed to the dimple in his chin. A devious smile emphasized his razor-sharp cheekbones.

“I think I can work with this.”

As the tailor disappeared inside the fitting rooms with Cat in tow, Simon slinked up to Magnus with a concerned look on his face.

“Dude,” he said quietly, “it’s a nice idea, but there’s no way I can afford a suit from this place.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Magnus turned around without missing a beat, flashing his sauciest smile. “It’s on me. Or, I should say, it’s on Daddy-dearest. Let’s see how fast I can spend a million bucks and how long it’ll take before he notices.”

Simon’s eyes almost bugged out of his face. Magnus couldn’t blame him. It was so obvious he was poor, there had been no need for Headmistress Herondale to announce it at morning assembly.

Lucky for Simon, Magnus didn’t care about other people’s money or status. The only thing that mattered to him was whether a person was dull or interesting, trustworthy or a snake.

Simon Lewis was practically a paladin, which made him interesting by default, in a world full of moral wrecks.

Magnus kissed the air in front of Simon’s face and turned to Raphael. “Yours too, cinna-bun. No objections. I already let you pay for your own wardrobe, which set me back on my goal by at least a couple thousand dollars.”

Raphael rolled his eyes again, but he raised his hands in acceptance. “Knock yourself out.”

Simon still looked shell-shocked when the tailor returned from the fitting rooms and dragged him away.

Magnus and Raphael ended up sitting alone – side by side on a replica of a Louis XIV era couch – in the front of the shop. Magnus decided it was a good time to make an embarrassing confession.

“I think I tripped and fell in love with Alexander Lightwood.”

Raphael raised his brows. “The emo kid from the party?”

“He’s not … Yeah, him.”

“Huh.”

Magnus wasn’t sure what he had expected. It had definitely been more than a non-committal noise and otherwise complete lack of reaction. Did Raphael not get that this was a seismic-shift level confession here?

“Does he know?” Raphael asked.

“Probably not.”

Magnus had no idea what Alexander Lightwood knew or didn’t know. They hadn’t even said hello to each other since the guy had stormed out of his room three nights ago.

“I kissed him.”

Raphael didn’t say anything. Magnus chewed on his bottom lip.

“Do you think I should tell him?”

Raphael made an uncomfortable noise in his throat. He seemed bothered, but it wasn’t disgust. Magnus had seen enough of that on other people’s faces to know what it looked like in every shape and color. This was something else.

“I’m so not the guy to ask about this stuff,” Raphael said quietly, scratching his brow with the back of his thumb.

“You know, you should really get those caterpillars under control,” Magnus blurted. “Tweezers are your friend.”

Raphael stared at him until Magnus averted his gaze.

“Just saying.”

They sat quietly for a moment until Raphael took a deep breath and looked at him from under his lashes.

“Do you think you should tell him?”

“I don’t know.” Magnus fluttered his hands. “It’s never been like this before. I can’t get him out of my head.” He huffed out a breath and tried to put things into words. “Have you ever kissed someone and it felt like in the movies?”

His eyes flitted over the fancy tan carpet and Raphael’s shopping bags around their feet. He remembered the full-body shiver that had gone through him when their lips had met and Magnus had slid into Alexander Lightwood’s lap as if he had always belonged there.

Raphael snorted. “No.”

“Yeah,” said Magnus. “It was crazy. I think if he hadn’t run, I would’ve begged him to take me. Like, literally, begged like a romance novel chick.” He chuckled. “I told him I wasn’t some bodice-ripper scoundrel. Clearly, I lied. I’ve been jerking off like a fiend, fantasizing about him, pretty much ever since.”

Raphael looked uncomfortable again. “Too much information.”

“Sorry.”

The door to the fitting rooms opened and the tailor reappeared with Simon and Cat in tow.

Their tuxes didn’t so much match as complement each other. They shared the same fabric – a vibrant blue so dark it seemed black – but where Simon wore a classic design with a black shirt and tie, Cat’s low-cut jacket offered a mouthwatering amount of rich brown cleavage and the wide-legged pants flowed enticingly over the curves of her hips. Her delicate golden cross gleamed in the center of her chest.

“Fuck me running,” drawled Magnus as he jumped out of his seat to gush over them. “You’re both gorgeous. I don’t know who to do first.”

Simon’s face turned an impossible shade of red and an honest to goodness squeak came out of his mouth as he ducked behind Cat.

Magnus cackled like the shameless flirt he was. When his head snapped forward with an unexpected slap, he whirled around to see Raphael glare at him in disapproval.

“Don’t be crude.”

Raphael picked up Cat’s hands and spread them slightly in front of her, looking over her outfit with a critical gaze. The boy definitely knew more about fashion than he let on. Magnus had watched him closely during their shopping spree and had noticed Raphael had his own very sharp eye for style.

“You look beautiful, Catarina.”

Magnus fanned himself. He still hadn’t figured out how Raphael managed to make his voice sound like filthy hot sex while all the rest of him seemed to be completely unaffected.

Raphael turned to Simon and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from the boy’s lapel, sliding his fingers under the edge.

“You dress up nicely,” he commented with a thoughtful curl of his lip.

“Yeah?” Simon’s smile beamed brighter than a 1000-watt bulb. “Thanks!”

“You should do it more often,” Raphael continued, oblivious to the way it affected Simon.

Magnus jumped in to save the situation. “Any time you want to help me burn a hole in my father’s credit card, just text me.”

Simon ducked his head. “That’s okay. I don’t have your number, anyway.”

Magnus rolled his head until his eyes landed on Cat.

“I’ll text it to you,” she assured Simon with a quick kiss in his direction.

The tailor cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, I believe it is your turn?”

“Yes, please,” drawled Magnus. “I am so ready to put myself into your capable hands.”

The tailor narrowed his dark-brown eyes. “How old are you?”

Magnus clicked his tongue. “Eighteen. Almost.”

The tailor winced. “This way, young man.”

The weekend flew by and before anyone realized it, they were halfway through the week and on the final stretch. The Fall Formal – Fall Fuckfest as Magnus had affectionately dubbed it – was only two days away. He had yet to summon the courage to talk to Alexander Lightwood.

They had no classes together. Magnus never caught him in the hallway or in the common room of their dorm. To exacerbate things further, even when their paths happened to cross on campus or in the mess hall, Lydia Branwell was forever in between them like the world’s stickiest glue-on beard. It frustrated the hell out of Magnus.

When he finally had his chance on Wednesday, he almost missed it. If it hadn’t been for Simon’s uncontrollable habit to overshare, Magnus wouldn’t even have known about it.

According to the paladin of babble, there was a ten-minute window after archery practice where Lydia would take longer to get changed and Alec would sit around by himself, waiting for her.

Magnus let himself into the gym at exactly 5:30 pm, the minute archery practice ended. He hurried to the boys locker room and pressed himself against the wall behind the door. Then he waited.

The door almost smacked Magnus in the face when it opened. He stopped it with one hand and observed quietly as the archers filed out and headed to dinner, oblivious to his presence.

Simon was the only one who turned around and looked for him. Then he flashed a painfully nerdy thumbs up with both hands.

Magnus wiped a hand over his face and pointed straight ahead, silently mouthing, “Go.”

Fortunately, Simon nodded and jogged along, following the other archers out of the gym.

Magnus took a deep breath and straightened up to his full height. Then he swung himself around the door and strode into the locker room.

“Lightwoo-uhngh.”

His flippant greeting died with an undignified moan in his throat because Alexander Lightwood was half-naked, and Magnus had somehow forgotten to mentally prepare himself for that possibility.

Lightwood whipped around and pulled an undershirt over his head, covering up most of his delicious muscles and a surprisingly furry chest with a drool-worthy happy-trail that crossed washboard abs and marked a teasing path into the waistband of his slacks.

Magnus sighed at the loss. “Please, don’t cover up on my account.”

Lightwood pointedly shoved his arms into the white shirt of his school uniform and started to button up.

“What do you want, Bane?”

Magnus pouted. “It’s back to Bane now?”

Lightwood raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just call me by my last name?”

“I was just being flippant.”

“While drooling.”

Magnus’s fingers flew to his mouth before he realized it was a joke. He narrowed his eyes and dropped his hand back to his side.

Lightwood … Alexander sighed.

“Why are you here, Magnus?”

His heart made a funny little back-flip inside his chest. He loved the way his name sounded in that voice.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quietly. “I want to know why.”

The answer was a dismissive scoff and the broad expanse of Alexander Lightwood’s back in front of Magnus’s face.

“We never hung out before.”

“We kissed, Alexander.”

That, at least, got Magnus a drooping of wide shoulders and the pale nape of an elegant neck as Alec dropped his dark head.

“Like that means anything to you.”

Magnus didn’t bother to stifle the exasperated noise in his throat.

“How could you possibly know what it means when you won’t talk to me?” He huffed. “For crying out loud, right now, you won’t even look at me.”

Alec spun around with a furious glare. His eyes glittered like cold water in the bright halogen lights of the locker room.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said sharply.

“You have a beard,” Magnus shot back, “and I think it’s time to shave her off. It’s gone out of style.”

“Screw you!”

“I’d love to, but I think your beard would chafe me raw.”

He didn’t mean to hold on to the metaphor; it just sort of happened. What he really wanted to say was a lot scarier than witty barbs about gay clichés. Magnus crossed his arms over his chest and took a steadying breath.

“I like you,” he confessed.

Alec seemed dumbstruck. He was still glaring, but his scowl had slipped and his lips were slightly parted in surprise.

Magnus used the opportunity and pushed through.

“I think you would like me too, and if you just stopped being afraid for just a second and if you give me a chance, I think we could have something. Special.”

He could feel an unfamiliar heat creep up his neck and spread all over his face. Magnus was usually so much smoother than this, but the words weren’t coming easily right now. It felt like he had to drag them out one by one like the perfect clothes from the bottom of an overstuffed drawer.

“Think about it,” he said, “and let me know what you want. Until then, I won’t bother you again.”

Turning around and walking away was the hardest thing Magnus had ever done in his whole entire life. As if the universe had decided to make it just a little bit more extra, he almost ran into Lydia Branwell when they both opened the door at the same time from opposite sides.

Magnus couldn’t help the sneer on his face. He wasn’t surprised when Lydia’s eyes narrowed and her expression twisted into an arrogant scowl.

“Bane,” she spat.

“Branwell,” he aped in the same tone.

They passed each other, and he could have just left, but something inside him – an ugly, terrifying thing with sharp teeth and claws – turned around and smiled coldly.

“He’ll never be yours.”

Lydia paused with her back turned to him. Her immaculate blonde French braid shifted as she glanced dismissively over her shoulder.

“Maybe,” she said, “but at least I’m closer than you’ll ever be.”

He could tell she thought her barb had been a coup de grâce. She obviously had no idea what had happened between Magnus and her so-called boyfriend. His smile widened.

“You might want to confirm that with Alexander.”

Magnus walked out of the gym, high on adrenaline and vindictive satisfaction.

Cat, Raphael, and Simon were already waiting for him when Magnus got to the mess hall for dinner. He plopped down in the empty chair next to Raphael and swapped bits of fruit salad with Cat across the table; hers had too many cocktail cherries and his was mostly pineapple.

“How did it go?” she asked before she dug back into her food.

Magnus cringed. “Worse than a teen drama but better than a telenovela.”

Cat snickered. “So, there’s not going to be a last-minute date swap for FF?”

“Wait, what?” Simon’s whole face screwed up in confusion as he looked back and forth between them. “I thought you were going to talk to him about school stuff. Why would you ask him out? You have a perfectly perfect boyfriend right there!” His arm flailed in Raphael’s direction. “Did you just make me complicit in cheating? I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

Simon was working himself up into a fast fluster. His eyes flickered nervously and his knee was bouncing so hard it shook the whole table. His gaze rolled around to Raphael with a pleading puppy-dog stare.

“I swear, Raphael, I had no idea. If I’d known that’s why he wanted to talk to Lightwood, I would have never said anything. And you!”

Simon rounded on Magnus again and his scowl was filled with so much righteous fury it almost pinched a little. Magnus tried not to laugh.

“How could you?” Simon snarled furiously. “You’re such a—"

“¡Oye, mira, idiota!” Raphael snapped his fingers in front of Simon’s face. “I’m not his boyfriend.”

Simon’s entire body screeched to a halt. Magnus could almost hear the boy’s brain smack against the inside of his forehead.

“You’re not?” He stared past Raphael’s fingers at his face. “But you’re…” He made a helpless motion with his hands, indicating how close Magnus and Raphael tended to be. “He calls you cinna-bun and stuff!”

Magnus snickered. “It’s just a nickname. I could give you one if you like.” He pretended to think about it for a moment. “Dumpling?”

Simon made a revolted noise in the back of his throat.

Magnus cackled until Raphael smacked him in the shoulder. When Magnus looked over, he did not look amused.

“Spoilsport,” Magnus muttered under his breath.

“Anyway,” said Cat. “Now we’re all back on the same page, what exactly happened with you and Lightwood?”

Magnus took a deep breath to fortify himself and shared the blow by blow of their conversation in hushed tones over roasted beef and potatoes.

Two days later, the glorious day of FF dawned with as little fanfare as any other Friday at Alicante Academy. They still had classes in the morning and early afternoon; lunch was no more or less bland than usual; last but not least, three hours was simply not enough time to go from uniform hum-drum to drop-dead couture for the shindig of the quarter.

Magnus scowled at himself in the left half of his bathroom mirror, nearly bumping elbows with Cat beside him as she fought to straighten her hair for the occasion.

“I still think you should have gone with the tiny braids,” he grumbled.

“Sure,” she snarked, dragging the wand along a strand of her hair, “and did you also have a time-turner to give me the extra five hours to make that happen?”

“I know,” Magnus acknowledged with a frustrated growl before he leaned forward and applied another layer of eyeshadow.

A glance out the door through his closet revealed that Raphael and Simon were both still sitting on his chaise lounge, dressed to the nines, bored out of their skulls.

“You could always let me put some makeup on you two,” Magnus suggested with a waggle of his brows.

“No.”

“We’re good.” Simon quickly waved his hands. “Thanks.”

The poor boy’s knee was bouncing at a mile a minute again until Raphael stared at it intently from the corner of his eyes and raised a shapely eyebrow. The bouncing slowed down and eventually stopped as Simon crossed his arms and tried his very best to sit still.

Magnus chuckled under his breath and put on a fresh coat of lip gloss.

Those two were a laugh riot together and they didn’t even know it.

“At least you finally got around to fixing your brows,” he teased Raphael, just to see what would happen.

“What was wrong with them?” Simon asked immediately, turning to stare at Raphael’s brows. “They look fine.” His eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses and he got way too close to Raphael’s face. “Wait, is that ink?” 

Magnus pressed his lips together and tried not to laugh. It was almost impossible. He turned to Cat who was having a hard time keeping a straight face, too. They stuck their tongues out at each other and made faces, trying to make the other crack first.

“It’s brow pencil,” Raphael growled.

Both of them broke at the same time. Cat burst into her real laugh, the one that sounded like a hybrid between a hyena and a sea-lion. Magnus collapsed over the sink, unable to keep it together between those two idiots and Cat’s guffaws.

They eventually managed to finish gussying up and headed to the gym together.

The fake walls between the three separate halls had been removed to create an event space big enough to house the Seaborn Encore luxury liner and all its life boats around it. Instead, the edge of the space was filled with chairs and tables, two full buffets, and a musical stage for the live band and DJ, leaving a massive gaping dancefloor in the center.

Pop music was pumping from large speakers when the four of them entered. Simon held on to Cat’s hand on his elbow for dear life, probably afraid she might run off and throw him to the wolves. Magnus wondered what that said about Simon’s previous friends.

Beside Magnus, Raphael had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tuxedo slacks and a skeptical look on his face.

“Why are we doing this again?” he rumbled, barely audible over the music.

“Because it’s fun!” Magnus proclaimed with his brightest smile. “Come on.”

He dragged Raphael to the dancefloor, determined to make him shake his cinna-butt at least once before he found some dark corner to loom in like the gloomy, brooding shadow he pretended to be.

Across the dancefloor, Magnus caught a glimpse of Alexander. He was standing next to Lydia Branwell like a living mannequin, surrounded by the rest of the ‘eminent eight’ as Raphael liked to call them. His tux was a traditional black-and-white affair, the cummerbund and bow-tie matched to Lydia’s dress.

Magnus turned away with a sneer of disgust and shimmied closer to Raphael who was obviously struggling to figure out how to dance with him. Magnus rolled his eyes.

“Just pretend I’m a girl.”

“That doesn’t help.”

Surprisingly, it was Simon who came to the rescue, twirling Catarina in a circle under his hand.

“Dude, just keep it simple and let them spin and wiggle.”

Raphael cocked his head to the side and raised his brows. “And where did you learn that?”

“My sister, Becca,” Simon replied with a smile. “She studies dance.”

Raphael’s eyes rested on Simon for a few seconds, studying his moves as he danced with Cat. Raphael got the hang of it very quickly and things went a lot more smoothly from then on. 

Magnus tried to ignore Alexander, but it proved impossible.

The poor guy was trying so hard to play the model boyfriend, but his poker face kept slipping like a cheap sheet mask. Notably, it slipped whenever his inelegant dance moves led him past Jace Herondale and Clary Fray.

The couple was slow-dancing to fast songs, making googly eyes at each other like the lead characters in a TV drama. Clary – predictably in sweetheart neckline and princess skirt – had eyes for no one but Herondale, who was – infuriatingly handsome in a modern tux – grinning like an infatuated sap.

Lydia Branwell was doing her best impression of a statuesque beauty about to explode, but Alexander seemed oblivious to the ticking time bomb in his arms.

Things were not going to end well. Magnus could just tell. It was as if a gargantuan storm cloud was brewing invisibly overhead somewhere between the steel beams of the ceiling, ready to burst with a thunderous crash and rain down on all of them.

He crashed into a rock-solid obstacle, knocking his gaze back down from the ceiling as his head snapped forward.

“Magnus, what’s wrong?”

The obstacle turned out to be Raphael’s chest.

“Nothing,” Magnus said quickly. “Why would anything be wrong?”

“Because you stepped on my toes, twice.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t even noticed. “Sorry. I think I just need a break. Drinks?”

“Sure.”

That had not sounded convinced. Magnus disappeared into the crowd before Raphael could ask any uncomfortable questions.

He found an inconspicuous spot, far away from the buffet tables, by the door to the equipment room. A surreptitious glance around the area confirmed no chaperones nearby.

Magnus retrieved the silver flask from the inside pocket of his tux, helped himself to a much-needed drink, and slipped the flask back into its hiding place before anyone could notice.

He let his eyes drift across the room, taking in the scenery from his disconnected vantage point. His absence had not gone unnoticed.

Isabelle Lightwood had sidled up to Raphael. Dressed in a slinky black number and with her hair and makeup professionally done, she looked a lot older than fifteen. She also looked like a hungry predator on the prowl, and her chosen prey was his poor unfortunate cinna-bun.

A perverse part of Magnus wanted to see what would happen, but his better angels prevailed. He pushed himself off the wall to move to the rescue.

A loud thumping noise behind him caught his attention. Magnus turned around and stared intently at the door to the equipment room. He glanced at his phone. It was only 8:30 pm. That was awfully early for …

Another heavy thump reverberated through the door, followed by a high-pitched giggle.

Magnus grinned and slowly, carefully, quietly opened the door just wide enough to take a peek.

_Should’ve known._

It was Aline Penhallow and Helen Blackthorn. The two of them were tangled up in each other on top of a pile of yoga mats, doing their own interpretation of Downward Facing Dog and the Bridge.

Magnus closed the door and leaned back against it. He took another fortifying swig from his flask, keeping an eye out.

The girls were getting noisy. If they kept at it like that, they were sure to get caught.

Magnus kicked his heel against the door and turned his face closer to it.

“Keep it down. You have five minutes. Then I’m done playing look-out.”

“Sod off, Bane!”

Aline Penhallow’s crystalline voice might have tried to pierce him through the door, but the girls did quiet down after that.

When Magnus turned his attention back to the dancefloor, his brows flew to his hairline.

Raphael was dancing with Cat. Isabelle Lightwood had moved on to Simon.

The two made a surprisingly striking couple – Simon’s nerdy glasses notwithstanding. Magnus really had to talk to the boy about getting contact lenses. It was an unacceptable injustice to hide all that beautiful sunshine behind those ugly windows.

They danced to the Latin pop song blaring out of the speakers as if they had to impress professional judges on the sidelines. There were all sorts of turns and spins and dips. Strictly Ballroom was playing out right in front of everyone’s eyes, and Magnus was insanely, blindly envious because he wanted to dance like that.

“Damn.”

He only had a moment to enjoy the view, because the malevolent cloud that had been looming invisibly in the rafters finally erupted over all of them.

It happened like dominoes. Magnus saw with horrific clarity how each one knocked over the next, but he was helpless to stop the progression.

Clary Fray abandoned Jace Herondale mid-dance and rushed across the dancefloor to step between Simon and Isabelle Lightwood.

Herondale started to go after her, but Alec was right in his face. When Herondale tried to get around him, Alec held him back with a hand on his elbow.

His hand was unceremoniously shoved aside, and Herondale spat something that made Alec’s face twist with rage.

Alec in turn got yanked around by his arm to face Lydia Branwell. She had finally lost her composure and drew Alec into a scene that would make the greatest divas of all time rise for a standing ovation.

Alec barked something back at her, threw his arms up, and gazed furiously around the room as if he was searching for something with which to bludgeon Lydia.

His eyes landed on Magnus. He started to move.

Magnus watched in petrified humiliation as Alexander Lightwood crossed the dancefloor in long, angry strides, coming for him.

“Don’t do it,” he muttered under his breath. “Please, don’t …”

Magnus tried to stop him. He really did. He even took half a step back, but he was literally backed up against a wall.

Alexander Lightwood grabbed his face and kissed him in front of the assembled faculty and students of Alicante Academy. With tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the ongoing messy efforts of a growing playlist, I imagined the song "Cosmic Love" by Florence + The Machine playing in the background while Alec stormed across the room and kissed Magnus.


	7. Aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to Raphael's POV. 
> 
> **CAUTION TAPE**: This chapter is the first one in which Simon's mental health issue really kicks him in the butt. For those who didn't already recognize it from Chapter 4, Simon suffers from anxiety. Anxiety doesn't mix well with certain stimulants. I personally don't usually get set off just by reading about it, but if any of you do, be warned, it's going to come up quite a bit from here on out. 
> 
> Also, I feel like I shouldn't have to say this, but the decision Raphael makes to not call 911 is stupid. If you or someone you know has taken drugs and is having a negative reaction to them, call the emergency number in your country. You can dig your way out of waist deep shit; you can't dig your way back from dead.
> 
> Thank you for all the feedback and kudos. They are greatly appreciated. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them down there.
> 
> ###### 

Raphael felt Cat’s fingers dig into his bicep as they stared incredulously at the scene unfolding right in front of them.

Clary Fray had showed up out of nowhere and pretty much ripped Simon out of Isabelle Lightwood’s arms. Now, she was trying to drag him off, but the Lightwood girl wasn’t having it.

“What the hell is your problem?”

“Leave him alone!”

The redhead clutched Simon’s forearms as if she was trying to pull him up from the edge of a cliff.

Raphael sighed. This was exactly why he usually avoided social functions. The bigger the crowd, the bigger the drama.

He looked at Cat with a quizzical expression, but she just shrugged and mumbled, “Beats me.”

“Clary, what’s wrong?” Simon asked.

Raphael watched them with furrowed brows. He noticed that Simon didn’t push her off him. The way he looked at her with big puppy dog eyes made Raphael want to thwack him across the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. Couldn’t he see how she was manipulating him?

“She’s—” Fray cut herself off, glanced at Isabelle Lightwood, then looked back at Simon like a tortured heroine. “There’s stuff you need to know. Can you please come with me?”

“I’m what?” the brunette asked harshly, dropping into a fighting stance. “I’m a slut? A bitch? You got something to say about me, why don’t you say it to my face?” 

“Fine, have it your way.” Fray let go of Simon and whirled around to face off with her. “You’re a junkie, and I’m not letting you get your claws in him.”

The brunette reared back as if the redhead had physically hit her. It only took a second before she was up in the other girl’s face again. She pushed her hard, bare hands smacking against bare shoulders.

“Take that back!”

“Make me!”

“Clary!” Simon grabbed her by both arms and pulled her back. “That’s enough.”

Raphael almost bellowed “finally” but the word got stuck in his throat when Simon dragged Fray aside and frog-marched her away from them, giving her exactly what she had wanted in the first place.

Things didn’t calm down at all when Jace Herondale joined the scene. The Lightwood girl immediately rounded on him and smacked his arm.

“What the hell did you tell her?”

“I’m sorry! It was just a joke. I didn’t think she’d go off like that.” He motioned after Fray.

Raphael wondered why none of the teachers had interrupted this ridiculous drama yet. He looked around.

The only teacher he spotted was Ms. Graymark from his AP Physics class. There was no way in heaven or hell Raphael would allow that woman to get a bad impression of him.

He was about to suggest to Lightwood and Herondale to take it somewhere private when a commotion caught everyone’s attention.

Someone whooped. Another person wolf-whistled, and a girl in the crowd yelled, “Go Lightwood!”

Raphael froze, feeling heat crawl up his neck, until he realized no one was looking at them. He followed the direction of the gawking rubberneckers.

Up against the back wall, Magnus was making out with Alec Lightwood like they were rehearsing for the climax of a romance movie.

Raphael rolled his eyes, turned around, and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Cat called after him.

“To get some air,” he called back over his shoulder.

He stepped out of the gym into the quiet of chirping crickets and took a deep breath. The night air smelled like ozone and wet grass. Raphael closed his eyes and just decompressed for a minute.

An enormous cloud of white smoke wafted through the air in front of him.

Sebastian Verlac and Jonathan Morgenstern were sprawled on a set of cement stairs leading down into the building, sharing a vape pen between them.

Raphael tried to ignore them and walked in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Santiago!”

He kept walking.

“Santiago!”

He picked up his pace.

“Come on, you snotty spic, don’t pretend like you can’t hear us! Ow!”

“Rude, dude! My aunt’s Hispanic.”

“I thought Verlac was French?”

“My uncle’s wife, you bell-end.”

Raphael closed his eyes and turned around. He opened them again and glared at the two stupid white boys who were obviously stoned out of their gourds.

“What do you want?”

“We were just wondering what you did.”

“What?”

Morgenstern dragged himself up the steps, leaning on the top one with both elbows as he stretched his platinum head to look owlishly at Raphael.

“Your aunt paid for this party, right?”

Raphael scowled. “Yes.”

“So, what did you do?” Morgenstern asked as Verlac crawled up beside him, leaning on his back. “It can’t be too bad, because it’s just a party, but it had to be pretty impressive to pay for a live band and a DJ on top of catering and all the other shit.”

Raphael turned to stone. He stared at the two drugged guys. They summed up everything that was wrong with the world that Camille Belcourt lived in – a world Raphael wanted no part of where everything was about money and favors and where family was an obligation to be dealt with rather than a vital part of your life that made you feel safe and loved.

“I got my whole family killed.”

He turned and walked away. This time, they didn’t call after him.

Raphael wandered aimlessly along the gravel paths for a while. He wanted to go to the chapel, but he knew there was no point. He had helped Father Aldertree close it up early today, before he’d gone back to his room to put on his tux and get ready for FF.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks and resigned himself to dealing with the rest of the night alone. Magnus had probably already disappeared into some secret corner to make out with Alec Lightwood undisturbed.

His cell phone went off in his pocket. Raphael checked it to find messages coming in one after the other.

Catarina was freaking out.

When Raphael trudged back into the gym, Cat accosted him immediately.

“Raphael, thank God!” She grabbed his arm and dragged him along. “Where have you been? I need you to check the boys locker rooms and the bathrooms. I still can’t find Simon anywhere.”

Raphael’s brows furrowed. “He went off with Clary Fray. I’m sure he’s just acting out some—”

“No,” Cat cut him off, pointing across the dancefloor. “She’s over there, dancing with Herondick.”

“Okay, maybe he just went back to his dorm. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“He’s not,” Cat insisted.

She chewed her lip and dragged Raphael into a quiet corner. She looked up at him, clearly distressed, her dark eyes shining with fear and worry.

Raphael had no idea why she was this worked up. Simon had probably just gotten lost while he was looking for the bathrooms or something equally Simon-esque.

Cat grabbed his hand. Her fingers were cold and clammy.

“I get these feelings sometimes, all right?” she confessed, her free hand fiddling with the cross around her neck. “The last time I saw him, he was back to dancing with Isabelle Lightwood. Look, can you please, please, just check the boys locker room and the bathroom?”

“Of course,” Raphael said calmly, placing a hand on her arm. “Relax. It’s going to be okay. Did you text him?”

“No, I tried sending smoke signals and a carrier pigeon. Of course, I texted him!”

“Sorry,” Raphael said immediately. “I’ll go check now.”

Cat was genuinely worried. Raphael was going to kill Simon if he found him making out in some dark corner.

He pushed open the door to the boys locker room and took a look around. It was quiet and bright, except in the showers. The place was completely empty, which surprised Raphael. He had expected to find a bunch of couples making out in here.

He almost left when he heard a strange noise from the dark area where the showers were.

Raphael investigated, praying sincerely that he didn’t walk in on some horny couple in the middle of having sex.

Simon was sitting hunched over in the corner of the white-tiled room, rocking back and forth, making weird groaning noises, and muttering to himself.

“Simon?”

He barely acknowledged Raphael, jerking once and shaking his head, before he went back to rocking himself and muttering under his breath.

It hit Raphael like a one-two punch. Cat had been right. Simon was not okay.

He got down on all fours and crawled closer, trying to put himself in Simon’s line of vision so he didn’t come out of nowhere.

“Simon, it’s me. Raphael.”

Simon shook his head harder before he looked up, eyes rolling wildly past Raphael. They crossed his gaze and held on for a second before they went right back to going all over the place.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry, fuck. Not good. Bad. Uh-hm. Bad moment. Sorry.”

Simon’s words came out between shallow breaths. He still hadn’t stopped rocking. His hands moved in sharp, jerky motions, scratching at his head, rubbing his legs, flapping like he was trying to shake something off.

“What happened?” Raphael asked quietly.

“Dunno.” Simon looked past him, then at him, then past him again. “Stress? Crowd. People. Clary. Drugs, I think?”

Raphael’s brain got caught on the last part like barbed wire.

“You took drugs?”

He could feel his worry flip over into anger, but it flipped back just as quickly at the tortured look in Simon’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

Simon was still breathing in shallow and sharp wheezes, rocking in place.

Raphael forced himself to stay calm. He took deep breaths. Maybe if he breathed deeply enough, Simon would start to follow his example. He really wanted to punch someone in the face.

“What did you take?” he asked very calmly.

“Dunno.”

Simon shook his head again. His eyes moved all over the place, jerking past Raphael twice before they came back to him. When he smiled, it looked like a grimace.

“Izzy kissed me.”

Raphael could feel his blood begin to boil right under his skin. He had been gone for less than an hour. How on Earth had things spun out of control in that little time? How had Simon gone from arguing with Clary to making out with Isabelle Lightwood to having a drug induced meltdown in the locker room showers?

“That’s nice, Simon,” he said with forced calm, “but I need you to focus.” He placed a gentle hand on Simon’s jittering knee. “Focus, okay? What kind of drugs did you take?”

Simon shook his head like he didn’t understand what Raphael was saying. His knee was still bouncing wildly out of control, eyes going all over the place.

“Dunno.”

Raphael wanted to scream, but he forced himself to keep it together.

“Was it a powder? Crystals? A drink? A pill?”

“Yeah, I dunno. Maybe?” Simon nodded jerkily. “Tasted like pink elephants. Izzy kissed me.”

Raphael growled in frustration. “You’re not making sense. What are you saying?”

“Like this.”

Simon jerked forward, clamped shaking fingers around his cheeks, and kissed him.

His tongue fluttered like a trapped bird inside Raphael’s mouth. Raphael felt like the cartoon character that had accidentally swallowed the bird. He grabbed Simon’s arms tightly and pushed him back.

“Chingada madre!”

“Never!”

Simon ripped his eyes open wide. His pupils dilated and contracted as he stared at Raphael.

Raphael snorted. “You don’t even know what that means.”

“Yeah. Looked it up. Urban dictionary. Did you know Spanish speakers curse like breathing but Portuguese do it sexier? It’s true. Saw it on YouTube.”

Raphael’s patience slipped through his fingers. “What the fuck did you take?”

“Pink elephants?” Simon whined. “I don’t know! Izzy kissed me with it.”

The penny finally dropped. Raphael rolled onto his feet.

“Don’t go!”

Simon’s fingers dug like claws into Raphael’s hand on his knee.

“I’ll be right back,” Raphael promised. “Just stay right here, okay? Don’t move. I’ll come right back for you.”

He needed to find out what the Lightwood whore had slipped to Simon. Then he was going to kill her. Then he would come back and take care of Simon.

“Promise?” Simon tried to stare at him, but his eyes kept drifting away.

“Promise.”

Raphael stormed out of the locker room. His eyes were so laser focused on finding Isabelle Lightwood, he didn’t even see Cat until she caught him around the waist.

“Did you find him?” she asked frantically.

“Yes. He’s going to be fine. I’m handling it.”

Raphael pried her fingers from around his waist and stormed off, headed straight for the brunette bitch dancing by herself behind one of the gigantic subwoofers.

“What did you give him?”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. She staggered on her heels, her head rolling languidly as she stared at him in a daze.

“What?”

If he was a different kind of guy, she would already be picking her skinny ass up off the floor.

“What did you give Simon?” he shouted over the blaring music.

She gaped as if Raphael had asked her to do calculus in her head. Then she finally took a deep breath and blew it out noisily through her lips.

“Just molly,” she shouted back, “no big deal.”

“You stupid…” Raphael choked off a half dozen profanities that clamored for priority. “I should call the cops on you.”

His shoulders were so tight, it felt like he was going to snap a tendon. His fist itched.

“Hey!”

Raphael spun around. Jace Herondale was coming his way. Finally, someone he could punch and not feel the least bit bad about it. He lashed out.

His fist got stuck in an iron grip. Herondale painfully twisted his arm around and pushed him face first into the wall. Raphael’s cheek scraped against the spackle as his shoulder screamed in protest.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

"That bitch drugged my friend,” Raphael snarled, struggling against the bastard’s hold.

Herondale let go so suddenly, Raphael almost stumbled back into him.

“Is that true, Izzy? You promised you were done with it. What the hell …”

Raphael didn’t hang around to hear the rest of that statement. He couldn’t care less about their little drama.

He pulled his phone out on the way back to the locker rooms and looked up side effects of MDMA and how to deal with them other than calling 911 and getting everyone in waist deep shit.

Simon was still curled up in the corner of the showers, rocking back and forth.

If the internet was right, the effects of the damn pill might not wear off for another five hours. The urge to kill Isabelle Lightwood and drop her body in a shallow ditch returned with a vengeance.

Raphael got back down on his hands and knees and crawled over to Simon.

“Hey, I’m back.”

Simon’s eyes snapped up, but they didn’t stay focused on him for long. His knee was still bouncing up and down uncontrollably. He was basically in the same bad shape that Raphael had left him in.

“She gave you molly. I think you’re having an anxiety attack.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Simon wheezed. “Could’ve told you that.”

“You’ve had one before?”

Simon rolled his eyes; they were wet. “All the damn time.”

“Okay,” Raphael took a breath, tried to keep his voice calm. “So, maybe you can tell me what to do? What do you need?”

Simon laughed wetly, rolled his eyes again, grimaced. “My room. My mom. Becca.”

“I’m sorry. They’re not here.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Simon spluttered, pressed a distressed whine through his throat.

Raphael felt bad for him. He had no idea how to help. He’d never seen anything like this before.

“What would she do? If she was here, what would she do?”

Simon rolled his head back and retreated to some place inside his brain where Raphael couldn’t follow. He started to rock harder.

Raphael was lost, but he was determined not to give up until Simon was better. Unfortunately, it looked like Simon was more likely to explode into a thousand pieces than share what he needed. Raphael was at the end of his wits.

“What if I get you Clary?”

Herondale or not, he would drag the girl over by her hair if she could help Simon.

“No, don’t leave!”

Simon’s hand clawed at his again, nails scraping roughly over Raphael’s wrist, breaking the skin. Raphael gritted his teeth.

“Then tell me what you need.”

Simon closed his eyes. His whole body shook and he talked as if he physically couldn’t get his jaw to unclench.

“She holds me, and pets my hair, and sings to me.”

Raphael froze. “Oh.”

Simon huffed. “Yeah.”

Raphael wasn’t a cuddly person. Aside from his family and Lily, he had never hugged anyone. Even then, it was usually them who had started it. He had no idea how to even go about this. Why couldn’t Magnus or Cat be here with them? They were the snuggly ones.

Simon was still shaking. It looked like he was trying not to meet Raphael’s gaze anymore and having more difficulty with that than when he had been trying to look at him before.

_How hard can it be?_

Raphael remembered, ages ago, maybe in kindergarten, after he had lost his first soccer game. He’d been inconsolable, and his mother had sat with him for hours with the door firmly shut between them and the world.

His heart lurched into his throat. Raphael exhaled slowly and crawled forward. He turned around and sat next to Simon with his back against the wall. The cold, hard tiles were uncomfortable as hell.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“What?”

Simon looked at him with puppy eyes as big as dinner plates behind his ugly glasses.

“Come here, puppy.” Raphael held up his arm.

Simon laughed nervously, but he moved closer and slipped down against Raphael’s shoulder.

Raphael cleared his throat. “Just so you know, I can’t sing for shit.”

He put his arm around Simon’s shoulders and combed his fingers through the messy mop of dark hair like his mamá had done for him. It was surprisingly soft and uncannily familiar.

“Have I done this before?”

Simon nodded against his shoulder. “The party. When you were drunk.”

“Oh.” Raphael cringed. “Sorry about that.”

Simon giggled, snorted, and clutched a little too hard at his jacket. Raphael heard the telltale pop and felt the seam under his arm rip.

“Magnus is going to be so mad,” he said thoughtlessly.

“Oh, fuck. Shit. Shit, I’m sorry. Sorry. Fuck.”

“Whoa, it’s fine. It’s fine.” Raphael tightened his arm around Simon and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s just a stupid suit. Magnus won’t care. He probably has people on speed dial for this kind of thing.”

“Shit, still sorry. They were expensive. Now I’ve ruined both of them.”

“Whatever,” Raphael said resolutely. He resumed combing his fingers through Simon’s hair. “You saw his closet. He doesn’t care. He’ll be happy for the excuse to blow through more of his dad’s money.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Don’t make me sing. I swear I will do it. Your ears will bleed.”

Simon turned his face and snickered into Raphael’s chest. Raphael could feel a long, hot breath soak through his shirt. He hoped that meant Simon was starting to calm down.

“Do it,” Simon muttered. “I dare you.”

He slid down until he was curled up with his head in Raphael’s lap, nose pressed just below Raphael’s belly button.

Raphael switched hands to keep combing his fingers through Simon’s hair. He rested his other arm around Simon’s waist and looked down with narrowed eyes.

Simon latched onto the arm around his waist and held tight. “Do your worst.”

Raphael sucked in a breath and rattled through a rushed, off-key rendition of The Ants Go Marching. He couldn’t even remember all the proper verses, so he made up his own number rhymes until he got to ten and the end.

“Happy now?”

Simon’s mouth twitched with a shaky smirk. “Blissed.”

Raphael continued to comb his fingers through Simon’s hair and kept his arm around his waist until Simon’s grip on him loosened.

“Do you think you’re okay to get up now?”

Simon nodded and pulled himself upright.

After so long, it felt weird to no longer have the weight of Simon’s head on his lap. Raphael brushed his hands over his thighs and cursed the pins and needles as the blood rushed back into his legs.

When Simon offered his hand, he grasped it firmly and pulled himself to his feet.

“You curse a lot,” Simon commented.

“Well, apparently it’s like breathing for Spanish speakers.”

Simon blushed a brilliant shade of vermilion and stared at the floor tiles. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Raphael chuckled. “You’re wrong about the Portuguese, by the way.”

He checked his phone. They had less than an hour before their extended midnight curfew.

“We should probably head straight to the dorms. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

On their way out of the gym, Raphael texted Magnus and Cat to let them know Simon was okay and that they’d catch up at breakfast the next morning.

They walked all the way to Penhallow Hall without Simon saying a single word. Raphael didn’t like it. Under normal circumstances, Simon would be talking like a waterfall about whatever was going through his head at the moment.

“You’re never this quiet. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Simon stopped dead and whirled around. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had to deal with this since I was seven. It’s … Whatever.”

Raphael had no idea why Simon was acting like this.

“Simon, what—"

“Just go. Just leave it.” Simon stormed off and banged the door in his wake.

Raphael stood alone on the flagstone path. He blinked in confusion and turned his face to the sky.

_Why does every single school event have to come with so much drama?_

Since answers weren’t forthcoming, Raphael turned his eyes back to the path in front of him and followed it back to his own dorm.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early. Raphael took a long hot shower to get rid of all the tension from the previous night. Luckily, his altercation with Herondale hadn’t left any visible marks.

He arrived at the mess hall promptly at 8:00 am. His phone buzzed five minutes later while he was sitting by himself over a raisin bran muffin and a glass of orange juice.

Magnus wasn’t coming for breakfast. Raphael had barely slipped the phone back into his uniform jacket when it buzzed again. Cat wasn’t coming either.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. He placed his phone on the table in front of him and waited for it. He already knew what would happen next.

His phone remained silent.

Maybe he’d been wrong. He’d always had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions.

Raphael went back to eating his muffin, keeping an eye on his phone, and sporadically checked the doors. Fifteen minutes later, he broke down and sent a quick text message.

**You ok? Still coming for breakfast?**

The status of the message never changed from received to read.

Raphael kept hoping, but when Simon still hadn’t showed up forty-five minutes later, he was done waiting around.

He went back to his dorm room and lay down on the bed. Clueless what to do with his Saturday morning all by himself, he started to play with his phone. He cleaned out his missed calls and scrolled through his pictures.

With a pang, he realized how much he missed Lily. If he was still in New York, they’d probably be having breakfast together right now or they would still be asleep at her place, recuperating from whatever thing Lily had dragged him to the night before.

Raphael opened his message app and started to type until he realized he was just repeating himself. He stared at the last five messages he had sent to her since he’d left New York.

**I miss you.**

**This sucks. **

**I want to come home.**

**It hearts smooch I can’t breath. **

**I miss you. **

She had never responded to any of them. He couldn’t blame her for the one he had sent while he was black-out drunk, but why hadn’t she responded to any of the others?

Raphael squared his jaw and jabbed angrily at the options on the screen. He put the phone to his ear and closed his eyes, listened to the warbling drone of the call signal while he waited for Lily to pick up.

“Hello, Raphael.”

The voice was male and definitely belonged to an old guy. Raphael almost hung up before he realized it was Lily’s father.

“Mr. Chen, hi,” he said, wondering why her dad had picked up her phone. “Is Lily there?”

“I’m sorry, Raphael.”

His heart stopped. That was the first thing the police had said to him when they had picked him up at Lily’s place and told him about his family.

“What happened?” He flew off the bed. “Is she all right? Tell me.”

“She’s fine, Raphael,” Mr. Chen sounded sad but firm. “She just doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. Please, respect that.”

“What?”

Raphael’s heart was pounding in his chest and only slowly beginning to calm down. Lily was okay. She wasn’t dead. She was fine. She just didn’t want to speak to him.

“But, why?”

“I’m sorry, Raphael. Please, respect her wishes. Don’t contact her anymore. Goodbye.”

There was a click and then deafening silence.

Raphael stared at his phone in disbelief.

His best friend had just made her dad tell him to leave her alone. Not just for a little while. For good.

He sat down heavily in the middle of the floor.

Lily didn’t want him anymore. Cat and Magnus were clearly off doing some exclusive best friend thing together. Simon still hadn’t responded to his message.

Raphael sniffed and wiped his wrist under his nose.

“Fine.”

He pulled himself up off the floor and stormed out of his room. There was one place he knew for certain he would always be welcome.

The chapel was quiet when Raphael stepped through the entrance and walked down the center aisle. He stopped in front of the altar, genuflected, and crossed himself before he walked over to the door beside the pulpit.

He knocked twice.

“Come in.”

Raphael stepped into Father Aldertree’s office and closed the door behind him.

“Good morning, Father. I was, um … I know my duties don’t start until tonight, but I was wondering if there’s anything I can do to help?”

The father looked up from his seat behind the desk. It was a sturdy old metal bureau that looked like a World War 2 remnant and was loaded from corner to corner with stacks of paperwork.

“Raphael!” Father Aldertree’s face lit up with a smile. “Ask, and you will receive, seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you,” he quoted Matthew. “This is a wonderful surprise.”

Raphael found himself smiling back. “I get the feeling I picked a good time to come over?”

“Yes, indeed. I just received the call that our charity partners have dropped off the boxes for our current book drive. I could really use an extra pair of hands. Or two, or three.” He turned his face to the window. “Lord, if you’re willing to provide, I won’t say no to a few more.”

Raphael chuckled. “What do you need me to do?”

Father Aldertree explained the long and short of the book drive as they walked from the chapel to the Administrative Building where the boxes were waiting for them.

The goal was to give kids from poor neighborhoods free textbooks. Unfortunately, people were more likely to give money than books, and in the case of those who did donate the actual textbooks you could never be sure what type of unwanted auxiliary material was included between the pages.

“All I need you to do, for right now, is go through the books that we did get and make sure there are no inappropriate pictures or scribbles inside any of them. Also, ensure they have all the pages, and sort them by subject, and write down the titles and how many of each title we have so we can get an accurate picture of what we need to buy.”

Raphael nodded along quietly and followed Father Aldertree through the double glass doors into the building.

The same woman who had given Raphael his admissions paperwork sat behind the counter. She looked up and immediately grew a wide smile.

“I see you found a victim,” she said with a snicker and pointed a long yellow pencil down the hallway. “We got most of them to fit in Conference Room 3. The overflow is in the closet next to it. They’re both unlocked.”

Raphael’s eyes widened. The fact that there was an overflow of books so large that it didn’t fit inside a conference room was not reassuring.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Gray,” said Father Aldertree smoothly. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“Oh, I’m not the one who has to sort through all that. I just had to get Nate to rack‘em and stack‘em.”

Raphael closed his eyes and tried not to let dread overwhelm him. He followed Father Aldertree down the hallway and stopped in front of the door to the conference room.

When the father opened the door and motioned him inside, the first thing Raphael saw was a large oblong table made from red-brown cherry wood surrounded by a dozen modern office chairs with wheels at the bottom.

The second thing he noticed was that the entire space below the table and most of the back wall of the room was jam-packed with large cardboard boxes.

“Here we are,” said Father Aldertree. “You can get pens and notepads from Ms. Gray. Thank you so much, Raphael.”

“Uh-huh.”

Father Aldertree left and closed the door behind him.

Raphael made a helpless noise in his throat. He couldn’t stop staring at the massive number of boxes, all of them presumably filled to the brim with textbooks that needed to be cataloged, leafed through, and sorted according to subject.

There was no way in heaven or hell he was doing this alone.

He squared his shoulders and walked back out of the conference room and past the woman behind the counter.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, honey.” Her amused snicker echoed after him.

Raphael crossed the grounds and headed straight to Penhallow Hall.

He was going to knock on Magnus’s door first, one hundred percent convinced that he would find both Magnus and Cat in there. He changed his mind when he walked up to the door and heard total silence from the other side.

Raphael doubled back and walked down the hall and around the corner to Simon’s room. He balled his hand into a fist and banged it on the door just hard enough not to damage the cheap pressed wood.

“Rise and shine.”

Raphael wasn’t sure what made him do it, but when he got no immediate response, he cranked up the fake chipper and even went so far as to use Simon’s pet name.

“Come on, puppy, time to get up!”

The door flew open.

A set of lethal brown eyes glowered at him, unfiltered by their usual thick glasses. Simon’s upper lip twisted with a sneer, baring his crooked incisors less than an inch from Raphael’s face.

Raphael’s heart jumped into his throat. He tried to swallow it back down as a heavy hand crashed down onto his shoulder and yanked him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The playlist for this chapter features:
> 
> Uh Huh by Jade Byrd; La Romana ft. El Alpha by Bad Bunny; Lisztomania by Phoenix; We Are The Reckless by State to State; I Dare you by the Regrets;


	8. Virtues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the lovely comments and kudos. Keep them coming. I love to hear what you think.
> 
> ###### 

Simon tried to keep it together. He closed the door behind Raphael, whirled around, and put on the first band shirt his hand grabbed from the clean pile behind his bed. Then he fumbled around until he found his glasses and shoved them onto his face.

Finally, he was able to see properly. Not that that was necessarily a good thing. Not when he was honestly afraid of what he would see on Raphael’s face. Maybe he was better off avoiding that for as long as he could.

He kept his back to Raphael and pretended to straighten up his bed.

“What do you want?” he asked and immediately regretted how cold he sounded.

He didn’t mean to. He was still frazzled from his spectacular meltdown last night and the subsequent sleepless night full of self-recriminations and self-induced nightmares that his brain had inflicted upon him.

“Are you always this charming when you first get up?” Raphael drawled sarcastically. 

Simon cringed and shook his head. “Bad night.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Raphael said. “I was there for some of it.”

Simon scoffed. He had walked right into that one.

“I know,” he ground the words out through his teeth. “It won’t happen again.”

Raphael said nothing.

Simon’s skin crawled as the silence dragged on. He had gone from just pretending to actually straightening his bed and obsessively smoothing out the sheets.

“I think those sheets are as flat as they’re going to get," Raphael said calmly.

Simon stopped sliding his palms over the cotton and started to busy himself with folding the pile of shirts at the foot of his bed. A whiff of soap and sweat hit his nose. He quickly pressed the shirt to his face and sniffed.

_Shit. They’re the dirty ones._

Simon kept folding them anyway, keeping his back to Raphael. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, Raphael would just go away and forget that he’d ever been exposed to the unsalvageable wreck that was Simon at his absolute worst.

“Listen,” Raphael said. “I need your help.”

Simon froze.

What on earth could Raphael need Simon’s help with? The guy was totally calm and in control even when he was confronted with a drugged nervous wreck. Even after that wreck stuck his tongue down his throat, Raphael was still perfectly capable of hugging and serenading him through an anxiety attack without losing a shred of his tough guy cool.

There was nothing Raphael couldn’t do, and, as far as Simon was concerned, his presence was only going to make Raphael’s life more difficult.

He dropped his head and snapped the T-shirt through the air before he folded it.

“I’m kinda busy.”

Simon could physically feel Raphael’s glare drill a hole into the back of his skull.

“You owe me.”

Simon hung his head even further and started folding the same shirt again.

“I know,” he whispered.

“Then stop messing with your dirty laundry, put on some pants, and come with me.”

Simon trudged down the gravel pathways behind Raphael with his eyes glued to the ground until they ended up on the stairs in front of the Administrative Building. Then his head snapped up in panic.

“Why are we here?”

Was Raphael going to report him to the school? Did he drag him here to corroborate that Simon was a terrible person who sexually assaulted people when he was high on drugs that made him freak out?

“Charity,” Raphael said curtly. “You’ll see, come on.”

When they stopped by the counter, the receptionist looked up and smiled broadly. The contrast between her bubblegum pink lips and brilliant white teeth made Simon’s eyes hurt.

“Back already?” she chirped. “And you brought another victim. Good.”

“I’m not—”

Raphael’s raised finger in front of his face made Simon shut up.

“Father Aldertree said you would be able to provide pens and notepads?” Raphael said smoothly.

“Sure thing, honey.” She dropped a couple of legal pads and a bunch of ballpoint pens on the counter. “There you go.”

“Thank you,” Raphael said politely before he took the stack and turned to Simon with a grim expression. “Come on.”

Simon followed him down a long hallway to a conference room full of cardboard boxes.

Raphael slapped the stack down on the table, pulled out a chair, and motioned for Simon to take a seat.

Simon didn’t look at him as he trudged around the length of the table and sat down on the opposite side.

“Now what?” he asked, staring at the notepads and pens in front of him.

One of the big cardboard boxes landed with a heavy thump in the middle of the table.

“Welcome to textbook purgatory,” said Raphael. “We’ll be here for the foreseeable future.”

Two hours later, they had gone through two of the bajillion boxes in the room. Simon had almost fainted when Raphael had pointed out there were more of them in a closet next door.

Once Raphael had explained what they needed to do, they hadn’t really spoken to each other.

During the extended silence, Simon had gone from hyper-tense, to relaxed, to bored out of his skull. Pencil-sketch penises and dirty jokes in the margins were only funny the first dozen times or so.

When it finally became too much to take, he broke.

“How did Aldertree sucker you into this?”

“He didn’t. I offered.”

Raphael didn’t even look up from the book he was leafing through, flipping through the pages with intense focus. He stopped, huffed out a laugh, and kept leafing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, just …” He held up the book to show Simon the cover. “School Spanish. Not the same as the real thing.”

“Yeah.” Simon snickered. “I noticed when you started drunk-talking at the party.”

Raphael disappeared behind the book and kept leafing.

“I said sorry,” he grumbled.

“It was funny.” Simon laughed. “I still haven’t figured out exactly what you said, but you kept—”

He stopped abruptly as the memory slammed into his brain. Raphael had petted his hair. He had combed his fingers through it and said quiet, rumbling words that had made Simon feel funny in a really good way. Just like last night.

The Spanish book landed with a smack on the current pile of cleared books between them.

“What?” Raphael asked.

“Nothing.”

Raphael sighed.

They lapsed back into silence and kept going through the books. Simon was again the first one to crack.

“Why would you do this voluntarily?”

“I told you.” Raphael looked up for just a second. “Charity.”

Simon raised his brows. “Like, the kind with a capital C?”

Raphael rolled his eyes.

Simon wondered if that was how Raphael had defined what had happened the night before. Maybe to him the hugging, and petting, and singing had just been a charity thing. That didn’t make Simon feel any better for some reason.

He didn’t want to be anyone’s charity case. It was bad enough that people saw him like that because of the scholarship from Clary’s mother. He didn’t want Raphael to look at him that way.

“What?” Raphael said sharply.

Simon’s head snapped up. “What?”

Raphael sighed. “You’re thinking so hard I can see smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Yeah, right,” Simon scoffed.

“You’ve also been staring at the same page for a whole minute.”

“Shit.”

“Just ask.”

Simon flipped through the next few pages, barely paying attention to the page numbers or anything scribbled in the margins.

“Last night. Was that charity?”

“No,” Raphael answered immediately. “For last night, I’m taking credit for patience, kindness, diligence, and temperance.”

Simon guffawed. “Blowing humility right out of the water, buddy.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

Simon finally had the guts to raise his head and look at Raphael directly.

His dark brows were raised and his mouth was curled up in a cheeky smile that made his face look softer than his usual stern scowl.

Simon wanted to slap himself when he realized he was grinning like an idiot. He quickly sobered up and stuck his nose back into the book in his lap.

“So, when did you get into it?”

“Religion?” Raphael confirmed and, when Simon nodded, shrugged his shoulders. “It’s always been part of my life. My father used to take us to church every Sunday. Dress up nice, fight my brothers over the window seats in the back of the car, the whole thing. Then we’d have a big lunch after. Sometimes have the neighbors over. My mamá’s tamales were always the best on the block.”

Simon grinned. “My mom makes the best latkes in our neighborhood. Maybe they can swap recipes when they come visit for parent weekend.”

Raphael’s smile vanished. His expression slipped back into the dark scowl that was on his face most of the time.

Simon felt like a heel without a clue why. He was almost too afraid to ask, but he needed to know so he didn’t do it again.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Raphael kept his eyes on the book in his lap. He mumbled something so low Simon almost didn’t catch it, but the last word punched through.

Dead.

“Shit, Raphael. I’m so sorry.”

Raphael shrugged. “You didn’t know.”

Simon’s stupid brain wanted to ask all the questions. Why, how, when? Were all of them gone or only Raphael’s mom? Like that would make a difference. Then again, it probably would, but not by much.

He bit the inside of his cheeks so hard he started to taste blood. There was no way he would add to the pain that was radiating off of Raphael right now.

“I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

It had slipped out. There was nothing anyone could possibly do, and Simon was well aware of that.

“My dad died when I was seven,” he blurted. “Cancer. Well, heart attack, technically, but mostly cancer.” Simon still had to exhale heavily when he said it out loud. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my mom, too.”

Raphael chuckled.

Simon stopped, flinched, frowned as he stared across the table at Raphael’s sardonic smile. He didn’t see what was so amusing.

Raphael shook his head and leaned forward to drop his book on the cleared pile and grab a new one.

“Looks like you, me, and Magnus can start our own chapter of the club.”

Simon blinked. “What?”

“Dead Parents,” Raphael said blankly. “The club no one wants to be in but everyone joins eventually anyway.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t known that about Magnus. Simon remembered the vitriolic way the older boy had talked about his father during their shopping trip. That made it kind of obvious that his mother was the one who’d died.

Simon instinctively wondered if Cat had lost someone, too. He quickly pushed the thought aside. He didn’t want to jinx it.

His eyes drifted over the stacks of boxes still waiting to be checked.

“We’re going to be here forever. We’ll starve to death before we ever get through all these.”

Raphael snorted. “Just shut up and do it.” He checked his phone. “We can stop for lunch in an hour and then come back here and work on it until dinner. If we don’t get done today, there’s always tomorrow.”

Simon made a choked noise in his throat. He was not going to sacrifice his whole weekend to sort through textbooks. He might owe Raphael way more than he was comfortable with, but that didn’t mean he was ready to give up all his free time.

_Time to call in some favors._

He pulled out his phone and texted Clary.

**911 Admin Building. Big project. Bring snacks.**

They had finally talked it out last night before Simon had gone off to dance with Izzy and things had spiraled into anxiety and humiliation.

His phone buzzed within seconds.

**On my way. Bringing chips n stuff.**

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. “Reinforcements are on the way.”

His phone buzzed again.

**And Jace.**

Simon cringed. He dropped forward and buried his head in his arms with a groan.

“What now?” Raphael growled.

Simon buried his face deeper in his arms and admitted in a low mumble that ‘reinforcements’ included Jace Herondale.

Fingers dove into his hair, snagged his curls, and pulled his head up. Raphael was leaning over the table, glowering down at him.

“Say what?”

Simon cringed again and writhed until Raphael let go of his hair.

“I texted Clary for help, and she’s bringing Jace Herondale.”

“Perfect.” Raphael snarled the word through his teeth in a way that made it blatantly obvious he meant the exact opposite.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Simon rushed to explain. “Clary and I talked last night. She apologized and stuff. Apparently, he and Alec are like brothers, and Jace figured the best way to help Alec get over his loving feelings was to make him hate Jace instead, because Jace is obviously dumb as a brick and a total dick, but at least he’s not actually a homophobic asshole.”

Raphael groaned obscenities into his palm. Then he dropped his chin and ripped his fingers through his own curls, snagging them at the back of his head.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I almost decked him last night.”

“What?” It was Simon’s turn to glower. “Why?”

Asshole or not, Jace Herondale was still related to the headmistress. Raphael could get in so much trouble for hitting him. Also, violence was never the answer and all that.

Raphael shrugged. If he wasn’t Raphael, Simon would have said he was squirming. He kept staring at the floor.

“I may have threatened his quasi-little sister because she drugged you.”

“You threatened Izzy?”

“She. Drugged. You.”

Raphael’s head whipped around. He met Simon’s flummoxed gape with a glare that came with unspoken subtitles saying Isabelle Lightwood was lucky to be alive.

“Okay,” Simon said, jerking his head in an uncomfortable nod. “Yeah, okay, there’s that.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t actually, right? Hit him, I mean.”

A creeping shade of red started to darken Raphael’s tan skin, from the base of his neck all the way up to his temples. He clenched his teeth and made a grumpy noise.

_Wow, he’s really, really mad._

“No.”

“That’s good.” Simon said quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “Then we’ll be fine. Just apologize—” Raphael made a strangled noise at that, so Simon quickly continued, “Or don’t apologize. We can all just pretend like nothing ever happened. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

When Clary showed up with Jace, twenty minutes later, they were holding hands. It hurt, but not as much as Simon had expected. He glared at the other boy anyway.

Of course, Jace didn’t notice because he was too busy scowling at Raphael.

“Santiago,” he said snootily.

“Herondale,” Raphael responded smoothly.

“How’s your face?”

“Fine.”

Simon knew he had missed something. He whipped his head around and looked at Raphael’s face. There was nothing wrong with it. Except, he was turning a distinct shade of angry again.

“Anyway,” Simon said quickly, turning back to the couple. “Thanks for coming.”

They were still holding hands, and Simon noticed that Clary was giving Jace the “clench of caution”. Simon’s jaw stiffened. That was their thing. His and Clary’s. Jace didn’t deserve it.

“You’re gonna need both hands for this,” Simon snapped.

Raphael cleared his throat.

Simon took it as the subtle warning it was and pushed aside his personal issues to get the job done. He quickly explained what they were doing and smiled superciliously at Jace when Clary plopped down in the seat right beside Simon.

Then things got really awkward. Nobody was talking. The only sounds that filled the room were the crinkling of book pages and chip bags or the occasional loud crunch of Clary popping a sandwich cookie from the plastic tray they came in.

Simon wanted to say something, anything so badly, but every time he looked up, Raphael was already staring at him with an unspoken warning.

“I think it’s amazing you’re still here doing this,” Clary finally broke the silence.

It was easy for her. She didn’t have someone silently warning her not to. Even if there was, she’d have probably spoken anyway.

Simon glanced at Raphael.

_He is pretty amazing, though._

“I mean,” Clary said, “after last night.”

Her nose crinkled as she furrowed her brows, and her lips did that little pouty thing. Why was she giving Raphael her empathy face? Over something that had happened last night.

_She knows._

Simon’s heart immediately started to hammer inside his chest. He couldn’t believe Clary knew about his humiliating meltdown in the showers. How? Raphael would never have told anyone. Had somebody seen them?

“It was nothing,” Raphael said coldly, glaring poisoned, flaming daggers at Jace. “Just a fluke.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed. Of course, it would have been Jace who had followed Raphael after their fight. That’s when he would have…

Clary made a disbelieving noise in her throat. “Your boyfriend kissed Alec in front of the whole school. That’s not a fluke. That’s a shitty boyfriend.”

“Oh!”

Simon laughed. Relief flooded through him, making him maybe a little bit giddy. Clary had no idea what had happened in the showers. She thought Magnus was cheating on Raphael.

“Simon!” she squeaked in outrage. “That’s not funny. Raphael must be heartbroken.”

Simon peeked from behind his hands to see Clary in full compassion mode. She was even reaching across the table toward Raphael to pat his hand. She’d probably lose a finger.

On her other side, Jace looked supremely uncomfortable, hiding his face in a book, pretending he wasn’t involved and just happened to be in the same room.

Simon couldn’t stop laughing. Until a book came flying straight at his face. He barely caught it, mashed between his hands.

“Hey!” he said, sobering up. “Those are for charity.”

“I’ll give you to charity if you don’t knock it off,” Raphael rumbled.

“What’s going on?” Clary asked.

Raphael sighed. “Magnus isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just … Magnus. Whatever he and Alec Lightwood are doing is their business, not mine.”

“Oh.” Clary’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red than her hair as she started to stammer. “I just thought … I mean, you guys are so close and, um, I thought I heard him call you…”

“Yeah.” Simon nodded sagely. “It’s just a nickname. Magnus loves to give people nicknames.”

Simon wrapped his arm around her and patted her shoulder in sympathy. Clary groaned and buried her face in his shoulder, just like old times.

“I feel so dumb,” she whined.

Simon beamed. “Don’t worry. I made the same mistake. Shared humiliation is less by half, right?”

After that, things lightened up a little bit. Simon was relieved to see a more familiar side of his best friend. Her compassion and fierce protective streak were two of the biggest reasons why he had always loved Clary.

They started to talk like old times and it was like nothing had ever changed between them. Getting through the books was a breeze now that there were four of them.

Sometime in the middle of their skipped lunch hour, Simon’s and Raphael’s phone went off at the same time. It was a group message from Cat.

**Where r u guys? At lunch w magpie, waiting.**

Simon looked up. “Think we should drag them into this?”

“Who?” Clary asked.

“Cat and Magnus,” Simon explained quickly.

Raphael raised his brows and rubbed his chin in contemplation. Simon wondered if he knew how much he looked like a mafia boss when he did that.

“There is still a closet full of books next door.”

Simon grinned. “Let’s make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

**Big project. Admin Bldg. Need help.**

Simon looked at the table. Their snack stash was getting a little low.

**Bring food and drinks.**

Magnus and Cat showed up fifteen minutes later, loaded for bear. Cat almost dropped the bags in her hands when she saw who else was there. She jerked her head in Jace’s direction, but her glare was on Simon.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Magnus immediately reached for her arm and shot her a look that Simon couldn’t quite figure out.

“Please stay.”

Simon had never heard Magnus speak that quietly before. He opened his mouth to say something, but Cat stepped in between them and dumped their bags in the middle of the table.

“All right,” she said, “Someone give me the parameters of this project.”

She drew herself to her full height, hands on her hips, and looked expectantly at Simon and Raphael, every inch a military officer.

“Yes, ma’am,” Raphael drawled with a mock salute.

He quickly explained what they needed to do. Magnus and Cat picked seats as far away as possible from Jace and settled down to work.

By the time dinner rolled around, Magnus, Cat, Raphael, and Simon were finishing up the final box from the closet next door. Jace and Clary had excused themselves an hour ago. She had booked riding lessons before she’d known about the project.

Simon never wanted to touch another textbook in his life. Unfortunately, he knew that was a hopeless dream. Come Monday, they would be back, but at least he wouldn’t have to catalog them or check them for scribbles.

“And done.” Cat slapped the last book down on the cleared pile. “We’re out of here.”

“Dinner and a movie?” Magnus gathered the pile from the table and stacked the books neatly back inside the box.

“You bet,” she said softly.

Simon got the feeling he and Raphael weren’t invited until Magnus turned around with a smile.

“You two are coming, right? I’m thinking pizza and James Bond at Club Chaos.”

Raphael huffed. “You guys go ahead and I’ll meet you at the stables. I still have to clean this all up.”

“I’ll help.”

While Cat and Magnus shuffled out the door, Simon got to his feet and started to clean up the mess of food containers and crumbs all over the table. Between Raphael and him, the conference room was back to presentable in no time.

When they walked back to the main entrance, Ms. Gray was still there. She was talking to Father Aldertree, who was leaning on her counter with a charming smile on his face.

_Are priests allowed to flirt now?_

Aldertree turned around when he heard them come up. Simon waved hello, but hung back a few steps to let Raphael talk to the man alone.

“It’s all done,” Raphael said as he handed over the notepads.

“Excellent work, Raphael.” The chaplain’s voice was filled with pride.

“I didn’t do it alone,” Raphael said, looking over his shoulder at Simon.

“So I heard.”

For some reason, Aldertree’s face took on a sour expression. His lips pursed inside his bushy beard and he frowned sternly.

“You have been spending a lot of time with Mr. Bane recently,” he said. “I don’t think that is a wise idea.”

Simon watched Raphael’s shoulders draw tight and get bigger. He could imagine the look on his face, even if he couldn’t see it with Raphael’s back to him.

“Why is that, father?”

“Nothing good can come of it.” Aldertree sighed. “The boy is lost, Raphael. I fear if you get too close, he will drag you down with him.”

Simon gasped. He couldn’t believe the priest had just said that. Then again, he could totally believe it. That didn’t change the fact that he was wrong. About Magnus and everything.

Raphael tilted his head and Simon could see his fists clench at his sides.

“If he is lost,” Raphael said slowly, stressing the ‘if’, “isn’t it my duty to reach out and try to save him?”

_Boom!_

Simon rolled back on his heels with a smug smile; it faltered when he realized Aldertree was unimpressed.

“Just be careful,” the chaplain said patronizingly. “Some people can’t be saved.”

Simon lost it. “Some people don’t need saving in the first place because there’s nothing wrong with them.”

His face burned when Raphael turned around with an exasperated stare.

Aldertree narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Lewis, isn’t it?”

Simon’s spine melted, but he still somehow managed to stay upright and look at the chaplain.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to control his breathing.

_Shit, shit, fuck. Shit. Maia’s going to kill me if I get another demerit for mouthing off to faculty._

He didn’t notice Raphael had moved until he felt a firm hand around his elbow. Raphael’s fingers were warm and his grip was a little reassuring.

“We have to go now,” Raphael said in that smooth low rumble that tickled something in Simon’s lizard brain, “or we’ll be late for dinner. Goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, Raphael,” said Aldertree. “Mr. Lewis.”

Raphael marched Simon out of the building and down the steps, never letting go of his elbow. He was also muttering under his breath in Spanish the whole time, probably calling Simon all kinds of bad things.

“Sorry.” Simon fought hard not to spiral. “Sorry. It slipped out.”

“… put a muzzle on you,” Raphael muttered under his breath.

“I don’t think that would help. I could still talk behind a muzzle.”

Raphael glowered at him.

Simon was trying his best not to let his anxiety overwhelm him. Then he realized he hadn’t taken his pill this morning when Raphael had unexpectedly showed up and dragged him out of his room. He’d skipped his lunch dose, too. Now he was about to skip the one for dinner.

He stopped dead and dug his heels in. “I gotta go back to my room.”

“Sure.”

Raphael didn’t ask why. He didn’t let go of Simon’s arm either. He just changed direction and walked them to Penhallow Hall.

Simon could have kissed him. Right now, he was so focused on keeping it together that he probably would have gotten royally lost and freaked out even more.

Back in his room, he grabbed the orange container from the drawer in his nightstand and resisted the urge to take all three doses at once. He’d done that once. It was a mistake that did not bear repeating.

“Okay,” he said after he had swallowed his evening dose and shoved the container back in the drawer.

“Maybe you should keep those with you.” Raphael was looking at him through narrowed eyes. “How often are you supposed to take them?”

Simon looked away. He didn’t want to have them on him. People asked questions when they saw a guy run around with prescription meds. Worse, people tried to buy them off him for a good time.

“It’s fine,” he lied.

“Clearly, it’s not,” Raphael growled back.

“Can we, please, not fight?” Simon closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and opened them again. “I said I’m fine.”

Twenty minutes, give or take, and he’d be better. He just needed to wait for the meds to kick in and he’d be a little more stable and then they could have whatever pointless conversation Raphael was going to insist on having.

Raphael clenched his teeth and glowered some more, but he didn’t push it.

Simon forced a smile. “Let’s just go. Cat and Magnus probably already started without us.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “They wouldn’t.”

By the time they got to the stables, Magnus and Cat had arranged bales of hay into a makeshift couch in front of the enormous TV screen and covered them with horse blankets and pillows. Two large square boxes from a nearby pizza place lay on top of another hay bale that served as impromptu coffee table.

“There you are.” Cat looked up over the back of the couch. “Come on, pizza’s getting cold.”

As he stepped around the couch, Simon saw that Magnus was snuggled up beside Cat, her legs curled around his hips while she played with his hair. There was just enough room for one more person next to them.

Simon grabbed a couple of pillows and sat down on the floor in front of the makeshift couch.

“How did you get them to deliver here?” he asked.

Magnus shrugged. “I used to have a thing with the delivery guy.”

Cat snorted. “You sucked his brains out through his dick once and now he’ll do anything in hopes that you’ll do it again.”

“Don’t be crude.”

Raphael glared at her, but he didn’t go as far as slapping her upside the head like he had done to Magnus in the tailor shop. Then he sat down on the couch behind Simon.

“What are we watching?”

“No Time to Die.”

Raphael grunted and leaned over toward the pizza. Simon vaulted forward, bringing the box closer so he could reach.

“Thanks.”

When they all settled in for the movie, Simon shifted to lean back against the couch between Raphael’s legs. He was still low-key struggling with his nerves, but the greasy pizza, and the quiet, plus the predictable cheesiness of a James Bond movie did help.

Sometime around the part where Bond started to make out with his second girl for the movie, Simon felt warm fingers crawl through the curls at the back of his head. He froze and turned at a glacial pace to glance up behind him.

Raphael wasn’t looking at him. He was staring really intently at the TV screen. Simon got the feeling that was on purpose. Raphael’s fingers were still tangled in Simon’s hair. His other arm was braced over the back of the couch behind Magnus. Casual as could be.

Simon turned back around. He could feel the heat roll up his face as he stared at the screen. Bond was still making out, getting hot and heavy with the busty girl whose name Simon couldn’t remember.

The fingers started to move again, gently combing through his hair. He felt Raphael’s legs shift closer around his shoulders. Simon rolled his head back. His knee slowly stopped bouncing, and his leg slid down until it was flat on the floor. His brain calmed down and he could finally focus on the movie.

“Oh, James!” the Bond-girl simpered, going boneless inside Bond’s arms.


	9. Vices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **YELLOW BANANA SHAPED CAUTION CONE! FLASHING LIGHTS! READ ME:**  
There are a couple of important things here, but I'll try to keep it short.   
1.) This chapter contains explicit sexual content.   
2.) This chapter also talks about drug abuse and a past attempt at suicide.   
3.) I have agonized over and edited this chapter more than any other one I have written so far.   
4.) This chapter will end on a cliffhanger and there will not be a chapter posted next Saturday, because I won't be in town. The **next update** will be on Saturday, **November 9, 2019**
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. Kudos and thoughtful comments are always appreciated.

Alec bowed his head and let the scalding hot water of the shower crash down over the back of his neck. He braced both hands on the tiles in front of him and breathed through the sting. The humid air felt like molasses going into his lungs. Liquid heat seared down his spine.

Like the blunt painted fingernails Magnus had dragged down his back when Alec had seized him for the kiss. Alec hadn’t let himself think about it. They had stumbled their way out of the gym before the teachers could get to them and kept going – half-walking, half-running – until they had crashed onto Alec’s bed, still making out.

They had done more than make out. Before Alec had realized what was happening, they’d already blown past second base and his hands had been inside Magnus’s tuxedo slacks, fingers curled around a dick that wasn’t his own for the first time in his life.

Alec shuddered at the memory.

He had no idea how far he would have gone. The way things had ended up, he hadn’t gotten the chance to find out. His phone had gone off before he could.

Alec hadn’t even made a conscious decision to check it. It had buzzed and he had snatched it out of his pocket, right next to where Magnus’s fingers had still been working their magic.

The message had been from Jace, short and to the point: 911 Izzy. Alec’s body had burst into motion before his mind had finished processing it.

He didn’t remember what he had said to Magnus on his way out the door. He remembered with crystal clarity how his heart had stopped when Jace had answered his call and told him Izzy was in the infirmary.

Alec sucked in a sharp breath and twisted the shower knob all the way to the coldest setting. The needle stings changed from fire to ice.

Like the dread that had rolled down Alec’s spine when he’d walked into the infirmary and the nurse on duty had just given him a look.

Izzy had overdosed on MDMA and something else. They hadn’t known what. She hadn’t been conscious to tell them. Just in case, they had pumped her full of Narcan, and something, and something else, to make sure they had covered all the bases.

Alec had spent the next few hours holding his little sister’s hand. She hadn’t been awake to notice until shortly before the clock on the wall had clunked its hands to 7:42 am the next morning.

Jace had been there with him all the way, silent and strong. He had brought Alec coffee and had forced him to eat something from the snack machine. He had placed his hand on Alec’s shoulder, and told him it would be okay, and reminded Alec of all the reasons why he was so desperately, hopelessly in love with Jace in the first place.

Alec smashed the palm of his hand against the diamond shaped shower knob. He got out and toweled off with rough, careless motions.

He had spent most of Saturday dealing with both of their parents. Of course, the school had called to inform them. While Izzy had been blissfully ignorant, recuperating with Jell-O and Euphoria reruns on TV, Alec had fought tooth and nail to keep their parents from pulling her out of Alicante and sticking her in a psychiatric facility.

He had barely managed to convince them that one Lightwood having a history with Alpine View was enough. Dad had almost insisted. As always, mother had had the final say.

Alec whirled around and punched the wall.

After everything, he had tried to talk to Magnus. He had headed to the party king’s lair last night after dinner, determined to put a line under everything that had happened between them. Magnus had never answered the door.

Alec wiped the blood off the tiles and left the bathroom.

This morning, after a night of very little sleep, he had tried to avoid everyone. Unfortunately, Lydia had hunted him down at the outdoor target range. They were done.

He deserved it. They had been together since freshman year. Lydia had always been there for him. As much as he’d let her, anyway.

They moved in the same circles and cared about the same things. Lydia was strong, and smart, and ruthless when she needed to be. She knew how to play the game. A few more years, and she could have taken on Alec’s mother. Beyond everything, Alec knew Lydia genuinely cared about him. They would have been a perfect couple, except Alec had never loved her the way he suspected she wanted him to. He couldn’t.

Alec dressed mechanically in boxer briefs, sweatpants, and a T-shirt.

The rest of the day had passed in a blur. Jace had tried to talk to him, twisting the knife in Alec’s heart a little further. Izzy had been released from the infirmary. She’d promised she was done with drugs. Again. Mother had called in the afternoon, reminding him that drugs, alcohol, and promiscuity with unsavory characters were unacceptable behaviors for a Lightwood. She expected better of him. She had never mentioned the name Magnus Bane. It hadn’t been necessary.

Alec shuffled barefoot across the carpet and left his room. He walked down the hallway in a daze and kept going until he reached the room at the other end of the corridor.

He raised his hand and knocked.

The door opened.

Magnus looked at him. His eyes were sunken. His face was free of makeup.

“What do you want, Alexander?”

The words reverberated through Alec’s skull. Nobody ever asked Alec what he wanted. It was always about what everyone else expected of him. That was all he had ever known. He went where he was told to go and did what he was told to do.

Hell, he had no idea. The only thing he’d ever wanted was something he’d learned pretty much immediately he was not allowed to have.

Alec opened his mouth. He took a breath.

The next thing he knew, he was kissing Magnus Bane, pushing him back into his room, and kicking the door shut behind them.

Scorching fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. Alec reciprocated by fumbling with the buttons on Magnus’s skin-tight top, popping a few of them in the process.

Magnus shoved his fingers into Alec’s hair and his tongue down Alec’s throat as if they’d been doing this for years. Alec moaned into his mouth.

“Harder,” he muttered against soft, pliant lips.

Magnus nearly ripped the hair from his scalp and sank razor sharp teeth into his bottom lip. Alec moaned louder and picked him up by his ass.

He threw Magnus onto his tasteless sheets and hissed when their hips crashed together, skinny pelvic bones digging into his stomach. Alec buried his nose into the golden-brown neck in front of him and sucked on warm skin that tasted like sage, sweat, and soap.

Magnus’s fingers were gliding down his back, pushing below the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Scratch me,” Alec gasped.

He slid his cheek down a smooth flat chest and nipped at a dark nipple. Felt short, blunt nails trail gently over his ass. Shook his head. Nipped more firmly.

“Harder.”

Ten knifepoints drove into Alec’s ass and cut burning ridges up the length of his back.

“Yes!”

“Alec—”

He swallowed whatever Magnus was going to say. Pushed his tongue back into the soft, wet mouth and tangled it up in something easier than talking. Pulled back far enough to stare into dazed, deep-brown eyes. Took a shuddering breath and went down.

His lips brushed south along a flat chest, flat stomach, dark trail of hair, narrow hips, firm thighs. He overcame the obstacle of button and zipper and pulled down a pair of skinny jeans and garish silk boxers. Mesmerized by the undeniable: hard dick and tight balls; the smell of soap and musk less than an inch from Alec’s nose. No turning back.

“Pull my hair.”

Alec opened his mouth wide and closed it around the head of a dick for the first time in his life. He had no idea what he was doing, but it didn’t matter. Magnus had buried his fingers back in Alec’s hair and was pulling at it, merciless. Alec’s scalp tingled with excruciating sensation.

He licked and sucked, hands roaming aimlessly over increasingly sweaty silk-smooth skin, and rewarded Magnus by forcing him deeper every time the callous fingers pulled Alec’s hair in just the right way.

It didn’t last long enough. Magnus came down his throat, salty-warm sludge spilling over the back of Alec’s tongue, making him gag. He swallowed anyway.

He was hard, senseless, revved-up. Full of emotional crap with nowhere to put it. So, when Magnus pulled him up, Alec went willingly.

The kiss was too gentle, too close to something Alec didn’t want from anyone but Jace. He pulled away and shook his head.

“Fuck me,” he demanded between shallow breaths.

“You’re gonna have to give me a minute,” Magnus rasped with a chuckle.

He rolled them over and pushed Alec down onto his back.

Nimble fingers stretched the elastic of his sweatpants and boxer briefs away from his skin. Cool air made him shiver. Liquid silk closed around Alec’s dick. He bucked his hips and stared blindly at the knockdown textured ceiling. Tried and failed to get lost in the hot, wet suction. Too soft. Too gentle.

“Harder.”

Magnus grabbed both his hands and laced their fingers, holding them in a white-knuckled grip while he sucked Alec’s dick as if it held the secret to immortal life and the only way out was through.

Alec came with a broken sob. He tried not to, but everything came out all at the same time. He felt the tears leak out between his tightly clenched eyes, turned onto his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow under his head.

Magnus had no idea. His hands were still trailing over Alec’s body, leaving stripes of burning heat in their wake.

_Good. _

Alec didn’t want comfort. He didn’t want sympathy. He wanted everything to go away.

“Fuck me,” he demanded again.

He felt Magnus pull away, felt his own body shift as the mattress dipped with Magnus’s movements. Sensed the cold just before slippery fingers sneaked between his ass-cheeks and traced the rim of his hole.

Hot breath ghosted over the shell of his exposed ear. “Are you sure?”

Alec nodded into the pillow. “Do it.”

It burned. Alec pushed into it. Breathed through the discomfort of scorching fingers spreading him open. Groaned when the fingers retreated and left him hollow and aching.

“Just do it,” he snarled.

“Hang on.”

Magnus was gone and back again. A gentle hand cupped Alec’s shoulder, coaxed him to turn onto his side. Soft hair tickled the nape of his neck. Warm skin pressed against him from his shoulders all the way down to his ankles. A strong arm wrapped around him; long, elegant fingers laced through his. Too gentle. Too sweet.

Alec wanted to make those arms hold him down and force him to take it. If he struggled, would Magnus stop?

Gentle lips brushed over his ear. “Are you sure you’re ready? We don’t have to—"

_Damnit!_

“Fuck me already!”

The pressure was excruciating. It split him open, tore him apart, made him scream silently into the pillow under his mouth. Alec bit down, tasting bland cotton on his tongue, and tried to breathe through it.

It was everything and everything was too much. Burning pressure crackled like electricity under his skin. It cramped up the pit of his stomach and throbbed at the base of his spine. Alec’s muscles seized up, tight with the effort of holding still. He held his breath.

Magnus kissed his shoulder, tightened his arm around Alec’s and squeezed their laced fingers.

“Breathe.”

Alec exhaled a long, shuddering breath. Nodded.

Magnus moved.

Afterward, they lay side by side with several inches of space between them.

Alec was still curled on his side, staring at a blank spot on the wall. 

“Wow.” Magnus chuckled behind his back.

Alec vaulted out of bed. He picked up his sweatpants and shoved his quivering legs into them, not bothering to look for his underwear. The first shirt he grabbed wasn’t his, so he flung it into a corner.

“Whoa, what the hell?”

Alec didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to see the expression on Magnus’s face.

“I have to go,” he said curtly.

He finally found his shirt and pulled it over his head as quickly as he could.

“Alec, wait!”

He slipped out and closed the door behind him before Magnus could say anything else.

For the next three days, Alec avoided every place where he might run into Magnus. He managed to convince Izzy to have breakfast and dinner an hour later. He moved like a shadow every time he had to leave his room or get back into it. He even skipped archery practice. Of course, it couldn’t last forever.

Magnus ambushed him in the hallway between their dorm rooms on Thursday after dinner.

“Are you ever going to talk to me?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Alec walked past him and continued on toward the safety of his room.

“You’re seriously going to run from me for the rest of the year?”

He was certainly going to give it his best shot. As a matter of fact, he ducked into his room, closed and locked the door behind him.

Alec leaned back against the sturdy wood, breathing a sigh of relief. He did not expect the thunderous, vibrating kick that rattled the whole door and made the back of his head itch.

“This is bullshit, Alec. Open the door!”

He shook his head as if Magnus could see him. Another heavy kick reverberated through the wood into his body.

“Let me in!”

Another kick. Another. And another. Alec squeezed his eyes shut and kept shaking his head.

“Now, Alec!”

If Magnus kept kicking like that, either the door would break or a teacher would take notice and be forced to grow enough of a spine to discipline the party prince of Alicante.

“Alec!”

He wondered what would happen first.

“Alexander, I swear to God!”

Alec whirled around and unlocked the door. He did not go as far as to open it.

The knob turned slowly.

Alec took a few steps back.

The door opened.

Magnus looked at him. His eyes were furious. He wore a ton of makeup.

“You literally left me with my dick hanging out. Twice,” he said, thrusting two silver-ringed fingers into the air, and kicked the door shut behind him.

Alec didn’t know what to say. He swallowed. It went down his throat like gravel.

“What’s the matter with you?” Magnus asked miserably.

His hand was stretched out toward Alec, trying to reach him.

Alec flinched back.

Magnus dropped his hand.

“If you don’t want me,” he said slowly, “why did we have sex?”

Alec shrugged.

“What do you want from me, Alec?” Magnus drove his fingers through his spiky hair and clenched them at the back of his head. “What the fuck do you want?”

Alec choked on his own breath. Shrugged again. Shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

He honestly didn’t. He had tried to be what his parents expected of him. Had thought he could be a model son, a good boyfriend to Lydia, Jace’s best friend, Izzy’s protector.

It turned out he was none of those things, and he had no idea what else to be.

Alec realized he was stuck repeating the same three words when Magnus cut them off with his shoulder. They were hugging like a couple of glee club nerds going overboard on a Shakespeare scene. Alec broke down laughing.

“Screw my life.”

Magnus hugged him tighter. “Now you’re just being over-dramatic. What next, you’re going to drown yourself in a shallow lake?”

Alec laughed harder. The pressure behind his eyes kept building. Magnus had no idea how close he was to the truth. It slipped out.

“Pills, actually. Dad took the guns in the divorce.”

Magnus froze. “Are you serious?”

Alec nodded against his shoulder. Magnus was the first person he had told outside of therapy.

Magnus took a shaky breath, but he didn’t let go of Alec. His arms tightened around Alec’s waist until Alec’s skin got pinched in the fabric of his shirt.

“That’s where I was over the summer.” It turned out, once he started, the rest came out easily. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. “Alpine View. After Izzy found me, our parents shipped me there for therapy. Nobody else knows.”

_Except Jace. Always Jace. Why did it have to be Jace? _

Magnus huffed. “Everyone’s been saying you went to rehab for drugs.”

Alec smirked. “Well, they’re not totally wrong.”

“That’s not funny!” Magnus said, but they were hugging so tightly, Alec could feel his stomach clench with what Alec was pretty sure was a suppressed laugh.

“It’s a little funny.”

“Shut up. It’s not.”

They just stood there, hugging each other, in the middle of Alec’s room. Magnus never moved an inch. His arms remained tight around Alec’s waist and his cheek was pressed into Alec’s shoulder. It felt too much like comfort. Alec frowned.

“Are you ever going to let me go?”

“Why?” Magnus asked flippantly. “You got something better to do?”

“You’re going to have to eventually. Curfew’s coming up.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time they’ve looked the other way.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“Uh-huh.”

Alec had no idea why. It wasn’t like they were friends. They had hooked up twice, and – as Magnus had so succinctly put it – Alec had left him with his dick out both times.

It was still hard to believe that his first time had ended up happening with the biggest slut in Alicante. Rumor had it, the only people Magnus didn’t have sex with were freshmen and faculty.

Alec should be ashamed to be another notch in the party prince’s bedpost. A part of him was; the part that still held on to a shred of hope that maybe Jace could forgive him and somehow, through some twist of fate, love him back.

The rest of Alec remembered how sex and pain made everything go away. When Magnus had made him hurt just enough, there had been no Lydia, no Izzy, no mother, no guilt, no anger, no expectations. Finally, there had even been no Jace. Just sweet oblivion.

Afterward, when everything had come flooding back in, it had scared the shit out of him.

_Now that I know._

Alec chuckled.

He nipped at the skinny shoulder under his mouth, raised his head, and brought his lips close to the delicate shell of Magnus’s ear.

“There are better things we could be doing.”

The smooth golden-brown skin of Magnus’s neck broke out in goosebumps. Sharp fingernails dug into the small of Alec’s back, crossing the marks they had left three days ago. Alec relished the burn. Warm breath fanned over Alec’s ear with a wisp of laughter.

“Only if I get to tie you up so you can’t run away again.”

Alec imagined it. Tied to the bed, powerless; long, jewel-studded fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. Gorgeous deep-brown eyes would be the last thing he saw. It sent a shiver through Alec from his scalp to his toes.

“Do it.”

Magnus pulled back.

Alec stiffened, ready to defend himself, but Magnus only moved far enough to place a hand on his cheek. Scorching fingers cradled his jaw like something fragile. Alec closed his eyes.

“Nuh-uh, Alexander. Look at me.”

Alec opened his eyes.

“Do you mean it?” Magnus asked firmly. “Is that what you really want?”

_Powerless. Breathless. Oblivion._

“Yes.”

Magnus looked at him for an endless moment. His gorgeous eyes pierced straight into Alec’s brain, probing for all the nasty, dark, and broken things that rattled around in there. Alec hoped he wouldn’t find them.

“Okay.”

Magnus stepped back and locked the door with one hand. His other hand was still touching Alec’s hip as if Alec might change his mind if they lost the connection.

He returned and dug his fingers into Alec’s belt buckle. He forced the stiff leather tongue out of the square bracket and yanked, jerking Alec’s hips toward him.

Alec stood still and closed his eyes again. Let himself feel the tug and slide as Magnus pulled the length of leather through the beltloops. Wondered what it would feel like to have the strap crack across his skin. Leaned toward the jingling metal and the heat of Magnus’s body. Stumbled into thin air and snapped his eyes back open.

Magnus was standing by Alec’s bed, taking off his own belt; it was made of canvas and studded with two rows of grommets all the way around.

“Not ideal,” he commented as he stared at the solid wooden headboard. “Let’s see.”

Alec watched as Magnus forced his hand down the crevice between the headboard and the mattress. He bent the memory foam out of his way and smirked at the slatted frame he found underneath.

“Come, hold this for me?”

Alec moved mechanically and held the mattress out of the way while Magnus pulled each belt through its buckle and looped the long ends around the sturdy wooden plank at the top of the frame.

Magnus stuck his fingers through the improvised shackles and pulled them up straight along the headboard.

“You can drop the mattress now.”

Alec did. The belts landed on top of it with a jingle. He couldn’t stop staring at them even when Magnus turned around and slipped his hands up Alec’s shoulders under the jacket of his school uniform.

“You sure you want this?” Magnus purred, dropping the jacket on the floor. He grabbed Alec’s chin and made him meet the intense glare in those gorgeous eyes. “If you run again, I am done chasing after you.”

“I won’t run,” Alec promised.

_If we do this right, I won’t have to._

Alec leaned forward and kissed him. Magnus caught Alec’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged. The guy was a quick study when he deigned to apply himself. Alec moaned.

Hot fingers brushed against the base of his throat. He almost buckled, but the fingers were only there to loosen his necktie and drag it over his head. Alec groaned at their stupidity.

“We could have used those.”

“No.”

Magnus dropped Alec’s tie on the bedside table and started to unbutton Alec’s shirt from the top down. He leaned closer, flicked his tongue behind Alec’s earlobe, and nipped on the sensitive bit of flesh.

Alec whimpered. “Next time?”

It had slipped out. He blamed the heat of Magnus’s breath and the distracting shiver that had run through him.

Magnus pulled back with a grin and undid the last few buttons of Alec’s uniform shirt.

“Maybe,” he purred.

The shirt landed on top of his jacket. Before Alec could complain about it, his undershirt had joined the pile and Magnus had pushed him to sit down on the bed.

“On your back, arms up. Make sure you’re comfortable.”

Alec toed off his shoes and shifted until he was prone on the mattress with his arms lightly curled above his head. He wondered how many times Magnus had done something like this before. He definitely seemed to know what he was doing. For the most part, anyway.

“What about my pants?”

Magnus raised a single elegant brow and crawled on top of him. His warm weight settled near the top of Alec’s thighs. Then he rolled his hips and shifted forward.

Alec’s head dropped back onto the mattress. If Magnus kept grinding against him like that, there’d be no need to take off his pants.

Scorching fingers furled around Alec’s right wrist, slipped his hand through the leather sling of his belt, and pulled it tight.

“Are they always this hot?” Alec asked.

“Hm?”

Magnus slipped Alec’s other hand through the looped canvas belt and tightened the noose around his wrist.

Alec watched the double prongs slide through the grommets with enough leeway that he could slip his hand free if he wanted to.

“Tighter.”

Magnus paused for a second, but then he slid the prongs back out and pushed them into the next set of grommets, leaving the coarse noose skin-tight around Alec’s wrist.

Satisfied, Alec returned to the question he’d meant to ask.

“Your fingers. They’re scorching hot. Are they always like that?”

Magnus raised both brows and sat back, gyrating his hips in a way that made Alec lose his train of thought.

“I never noticed.” He shrugged. “Probably?”

Alec snorted. He didn’t know what he’d expected. It wasn’t like he ever paid much attention to the temperature of his own hands.

Magnus trailed his eyes over Alec’s body with that intense, unholy focus Alec was quickly learning to fear.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, never looking up from Alec’s chest. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

Magnus rested his hands flat against the bottom of Alec’s stomach and slid his palms all the way up to the center of Alec’s chest. His fingers combed through the coarse black hair and tugged. He started to knead Alec’s skin like a cat.

“My favorite kind of shag carpet.” He waggled his brows with a grin. “Mine for the shagging.”

Alec’s stomach clenched with a suppressed laugh. It shouldn’t be funny. It wasn’t. It was just the diabolically delighted expression on Magnus’s face.

“You are so wrong,” Alec groaned and turned his face into the crook of his own shoulder.

“Oh, then, baby, I don’t want to be right,” Magnus purred into Alec’s exposed ear and flicked the tip of his tongue against the ridge of the sensitive shell.

Alec clenched his stomach again and refused to let himself take the bait. He didn’t want to have fun. He wanted oblivion.

Magnus wasn’t making it easy. He was still kneading at Alec’s chest like an oversized cat. Alec wished he would stop. He wished he’d make it hurt.

“You don’t have to be so damn gentle,” he grumbled.

Magnus hummed in his throat. He stopped kneading, slid his fingers close to Alec’s nipples, pinched the hair there between his fingers, and pulled.

The sting shot in a straight line to Alec’s dick. His mouth snapped open and his hips bucked.

_This. More. _

Magnus rode through the motion without ever relaxing his grip.

“I’m starting to realize that,” he said softly, voice contemplative.

He released Alec’s chest hair and twirled his index fingers around Alec’s nipples. The touch was barely there, a featherlight tease. Alec rolled his eyes into the back of his head.

“Just do it.”

He wasn’t all that sensitive and it wasn’t like he’d never suffered through a purple—

“Hah-ngh!”

His throat closed up and his stomach clenched hard as he tried to curl in on himself. He was stopped by Magnus’s weight on his hips and the restraints around his wrists, leather and canvas biting into his skin.

He’d never suffered through having one nipple viciously twisted while the other one was engulfed in wet hot suction and teased with the flickering tip of a tongue.

Alec breathed through the sensations, opened his mouth to demand more, whined low in his throat instead.

Magnus wasn’t letting up. He sank his teeth in and clamped down. Hard.

Alec sucked in a breath. Held it. Trembled all the way down to his toes. Heard nothing but the blood rushing through his ears.

Razor-sharp fingernails clawed into his ribs. Ten pin-points of agony raced like electric current across his skin. He was barely aware of someone calling his name. Too far gone to care. Loathe to let go of the breath he was holding to answer. Snapped like an overtight bow string.

“What?!”

“Mr. Lightwood, please, open the door.”

Reality crashed over Alec’s head like a bucket full of bricks. His eyes flew open and he stared at the ceiling, incapable of saying or doing anything. He couldn’t even move.

The head of their dorm and Alicante’s esteemed history teacher, Mr. Lorenzo Rey, was on the other side of Alec’s door, rattling the knob.

“Mr. Lightwood, unlock your door this instant.”

Magnus shifted.

Alec’s gaze slid toward him like fingers to a burning candle.

Magnus sat up and rolled his shoulders. His posture was rigid. Something shifted in his eyes and made them look cold like frozen earth. His fingers still burned like embers on Alec’s chest.

“Go away.”

Magnus’s voice resonated with authority, not a smidgen of alarm or doubt in it.

The doorknob stopped rattling and Mr. Rey cleared his throat.

“Mr. Bane?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Hyper-alert and too afraid to breathe, Alec could hear the retreating footsteps of the history teacher echo through the door.

Magnus held all the power. If he told a teacher to get down on their knees and kiss his boots, they would.

Alec shivered.

Magnus smiled. “I told you they’d look the other way.”

He melted on top of Alec; liquid fire soaking into Alec’s skin. Alec gasped it in, gulped it down with Magnus’s tongue in his mouth. Moaned at the white-hot sensation of sharp fingernails scoring along his ribs. Wanted it to consume him until there was nothing left.

“Burn me,” mumbled against silky wet lips.

Magnus ignored him. Kissed him harder. Drove his weight down with enough force to bruise them both.

Alec bucked his hips.

“More.”

Magnus yanked his head back, buried sharp teeth in the junction of his neck and shoulder.

Pain as bright as the sun. So close. Almost. Not enough.

“Put your hand around my throat.”

Scorching, trembling fingers at the base of his throat. Gentle. Too fucking gentle. So impossibly gentle when their hips were grinding each other raw, brutal enough to crush bones. Chasing oblivion. So close, so close.

“Tighter.”

The fingers twitched, but then they barely tightened. Alec could still breathe. Still speak. Not good enough.

“Tighter!”

Finally, the scorching fingers closed around his throat. Burned through his skin. Alec would have breathed a sigh of relief, but they cut off his air.

He smiled. Opened his eyes. Looked up into deep-brown eyes as cold as frozen earth.

“Snap your fingers when I need to stop.”

Snapping was the last thing on Alec’s mind. His lungs burned. His chest was tight. His dick was about to explode.

Those eyes.

“Alec, snap your fingers.” 

Tears leaked out of the corners of Alec’s eyes. His vision was going dark at the edges.

Those gorgeous eyes.

“Damnit, Alexander!”

The fingers disappeared from his throat.

Alec’s body betrayed him. He sucked in air and came so hard he blacked out.

When he came to, Magnus was standing at the door, glowering down at him.

“Fuck you, Lightwood.”

His lean body was so rigid he was shaking. His eyes looked completely black.

“If you’re just trying to kill yourself, I’m not gonna be the fucking bullet.”

Magnus twisted the knob, stormed out, and slammed the door hard enough that it rattled inside the frame.

Alec lay on his bed, cold and shaking. The mess in his pants was rapidly turning cold and sticky, tearing uncomfortably at his pubic hair. His arms were still tethered to the headboard.

He cursed his stupidity until he realized that he could easily loosen the leather belt with a turn of his wrist. His hand slipped out of the loop. He could have freed himself the whole time.

Alec sat up and removed Magnus’s canvas belt from his other wrist and then from the slat under the mattress.

He held it in his hands and stared at it, trying to wrap his brain around what had just happened.

The problem was that his brain wasn’t talking to him at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs for the playlist are: Not an Addict by K's Choice; Fighter by Joseph; Love is Love by Grace Potter; Falling by Florence + The Machine.


	10. Daddy Issues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Missed me?   
I'm back from my travels, a bit under the weather but ... you're not here to hear me waffle on about myself.   
Thank you for the lovely feedback on the previous chapter and here is the next one. Let me know what you think.
> 
> ###### 

Magnus whirled into his room and banged the door shut behind him. He was still shaking. He fished his phone out of his back pocket and collapsed on top of his bed.

**Need u. Messed up. Alec and I are done.**

He stared at his phone, willing it to chime with a reply. It was barely 9:30 pm. Cat was definitely still awake. Probably reading fanfic or looking at fan-art online. There was no way she was asleep.

His phone chimed.

**Where r u?**

He let her know he was in his room, and she promised she was on her way.

When a soft knock tapped against his door twenty minutes later, Magnus froze. Cat wouldn’t have knocked. She would have let herself in.

“Who is it?”

If it was Alec, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Yelling would definitely be involved.

A dull thud banged against the bottom of the door.

“Jesus, magpie! Who do you think it is? Get the door. My hands are full.”

Magnus jumped off the bed and flew to the door. Cat glowered at him in her satin sleep cap and penguin pajamas with a bag of French fries in one hand and a hot fudge sundae in the other. He raised his brows.

“How did you get those?”

“You don’t want to know.”

He had a nasty suspicion his delivery guy devotee had something to do with it.

Magnus took the fries, locked the door behind Cat, and crawled back onto his bed. Cat grabbed a bunch of pillows, and propped herself up against the headboard.

“Talk.”

Magnus told her everything in gory detail while he forced down a handful of salty fries dipped in vanilla ice-cream.

“He would have let me do it.”

It was still impossible to wrap his mind around it. The image of Alec staring up at him with his hand around Alec’s throat was burned inside his mind forever.

“He was supposed to struggle. He was supposed to snap his fucking fingers, and he just … Urgh, you should have seen the look on his face.”

Cat sighed. She set the cup of melted sundae on his bedside table next to the greasy bag of fries and wiped her hands.

“He’s using you.”

“I know!”

His hands were shaking again. He clenched them into fists and pushed his knuckles into the mattress.

Alec was suicidal and he had tried to use Magnus to kill himself. Magnus could honestly say, he had never thought this would happen to him again. His mind was reeling, trying to solve the problem, take control, fix him. He was older now. He could do it. He wouldn’t fail this time.

“But I’m not going to be the bullet. I’m going to save him. I have to. I can’t just abandon him, right?”

Cat was in his face so quickly, he jumped. Her fingers clamped around his wrists.

“No, magpie. Don’t even think about it.”

He didn’t look up. He already knew what she was going to say.

“You can’t fix him,” she said bluntly. “If he’s really messed up, he needs to see a therapist, take pills, maybe even go back to that place where he went for drug rehab and see if they can help him work through it. It’s not on you. You can’t fix him. Not like this. It’s only going to hurt both of you.”

Cat would know. She didn’t bring up his mom. She didn’t need to.

Magnus clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. Stubborn tears burned behind them.

“But I love him.”

“I know, magpie. I know.”

When she tugged on his wrists, he slumped forward and let her pull him into a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezed her tight, and toppled them over with a frustrated growl. Cat’s arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he buried his nose between her flannel covered boobs. Magnus took a deep breath and sighed.

Why couldn’t he have fallen in love with Cat?

The one person who was always there for him. His beautiful best friend who loved him unconditionally; who was soft like penguin flannel pajamas and strong like an Army general; who could take charge and straighten out any mess and tell him what he needed to hear even when he didn’t want to hear it; who smelled like French fries and vanilla ice cream and that dreadful lemony scrub she insisted was good for her skin.

Magnus nuzzled the dip at the base of her throat and pressed his lips against it.

Cat rubbed his shoulders.

He slithered further up and rested his forehead against hers. He could feel her brows crease when he rubbed their noses together, but she didn’t pull away. Magnus pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth. Did it again. The third time around, he slipped the tip of his tongue across the seam of her lips.

Cat grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, and pulled.

“No. Magpie.”

When he sighed and hung his head, her grip loosened and she started to rub his shoulders again.

“I love you,” she said firmly, “and I always will, but I’m not having sex with you.”

Magnus couldn’t help it. He dropped his forehead on her chest and then looked up at her with the most impressive cute face in his arsenal.

“Not even to make me feel better?”

She flicked her finger against his forehead. “That’s what the fries and ice cream was for.”

“I’d be so good.”

“Magnus,” she said, looking exactly like her dad.

“Fine.”

He dropped back down and she kept petting him.

The next few days were hell. Magnus was torn between wanting to fix Alec and trying to stay away from him. Luckily, Cat was by his side whenever possible. Since it was riskier for her to sneak around after curfew, Magnus spent several nights at Carstairs Hall. He barely got any sleep, spooned together in her double bed, but it was better than staring at his own ceiling.

He told Raphael and Simon the abridged and heavily edited version of the story when they confronted him directly at dinner on Tuesday. Apparently, his mastery of obfuscation and diversion had lapsed. Either that, or they were just more perceptive than the average person.

Magnus suspected it had been Raphael who had noticed that something was off, despite the fact that Magnus had given it his best effort to be every bit as bright, glamorous, and ready to celebrate life as he’d ever been.

He hadn’t even cancelled the upcoming party at Club Chaos.

“Screw him,” said Raphael.

“Yeah,” Simon agreed. “Honestly, if he’s just making you miserable and being a total jerk. It’s like in The Godfather. Kay was so in love with Michael, but he was just no good for her. I mean, they ended up getting married, but he was really just using her and it wasn’t healthy for either of them. Tragic stuff.”

Raphael turned and raised an eyebrow at Simon. “What is it with you and the mafia movie references?”

Simon ducked his head and blushed a brilliant shade of carmine. “Nothing.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “In any case, I’m not some desperate white chick from the ‘40s, and Alexander isn’t some emotionally stunted macho, struggling with his role as the heir to a criminal empire.”

“Isn’t he, though?” blurted Simon. “I mean, maybe not a criminal empire, but Clary said his family is kind of intense. They’re like third generation members of the DC political circle or something like that.”

Inescapably, Magnus’s gaze was drawn across the dining hall to the subject of their conversation.

Alec stared back at him. He shifted his chair back and got up from his seat. He started to move.

Magnus’s breath caught in his throat.

“We’re leaving.”

Cat’s voice was as hard as her grip on his wrist as she pulled Magnus out of his seat. He stumbled after her.

“Magnus!”

It seemed Alec wasn’t deterred. He followed them through the dining hall. Magnus would have groaned at the horrifying cliché of it all if his heart wasn’t too busy twisting itself around his guts.

Cat whirled around and put herself between them, every inch an angry Army officer facing the enemy.

“Leave him alone.”

“I need to talk to him,” Alec said quietly, before he looked over her shoulder straight at Magnus. “Please.”

“No,” Cat said firmly, raising her hand to keep him from stepping closer. “You need to sort out your mess.”

Alec’s eyes flew back to Cat, wide and anxious. His breathing went shallow and his whole body tensed up.

“What?”

“You heard me,” she said calmly. “Sort it out. Until then, stay away from Magnus.”

Magnus couldn’t blink. He waited for Alec to look back at him and for the crushing weight of his betrayal to bury him.

Alec took a step back out of Cat’s reach. He raised his hands in supplication, nodded once, and walked away.

“Come on.” Cat turned around and grabbed his hand again. “Let’s go.”

The next day, Simon showed up late for dinner, bouncing with even more frenetic energy than usual. Raphael was doing his best to keep him contained with intense glares and the not so subtle way he twisted his foot around Simon’s bouncing leg under the table.

“Did you forget again?” he growled cryptically.

“No, it’s not that,” Simon snapped back. “There’s something, um, something I’m supposed to tell Magnus.”

Simon’s eyes flitted nervously from Raphael, to Cat, to Magnus, and back to Cat again.

They all knew Wednesdays and Fridays meant archery practice. Alec must have cornered Simon in the locker rooms.

Magnus’s heart twisted around his guts again. He knew why Caterina was glaring up a storm beside him. He wasn’t sure why Raphael looked ready to commit coldblooded murder.

“What did Alec say?” Magnus asked.

“He wants to meet with you,” Simon blurted, “tonight, at the old stables after curfew.”

Caterina scoffed. “I hope you told him where he can shove it.”

Simon looked uncomfortable and shook his head quickly. “I didn’t know what to say.”

Raphael took a long breath and released it slowly. His glare shifted to stab straight into Magnus’s eyes.

“Why are you glaring at me?” Magnus flashed his hands reflexively. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Do you want to meet with Lightwood tonight?”

Magnus gulped. Suddenly, all the random mafia references that Simon kept dropping made a lot more sense.

“What if I don’t?” He chuckled nervously. “Are you gonna make him go sleep with the fishes?”

“I will make him understand that he can’t go through Simon to get to you.”

Raphael pushed his tray away from him, ready to get up, but Simon’s hand snapped down on his forearm like a spring-loaded shackle.

“Please, don’t.”

Magnus watched, fascinated, as Raphael clenched his fist and Simon dug his fingers harder into Raphael’s forearm. Raphael cleared his throat in a way that was oddly reminiscent of a large animal growling.

“You’re not good at confrontations, remember? I excel at them.”

While Simon fought some kind of internal battle with himself, Magnus noticed that their legs had reversed their positions. It was now Simon’s foot hooked around Raphael’s ankle, keeping him from getting up.

“I don’t need you to do that for me. Just drop it.”

They glared at each other in the same hot and heavy way they had done when Raphael had been in the infirmary for dehydration.

Magnus leaned over to Cat. “Please, don’t take my makeup again.”

“I won’t,” she said calmly. “But I’m sure going to send a nastygram to your ex. This one’s on him.”

The term “ex” wasn’t anywhere near accurate, but it did a repulsive thing to Magnus’s stomach that dislodged his heart.

He did not go to meet Alec that night. He crawled into Cat’s bed about fifteen minutes after curfew and let her hold him while he lapsed in and out of erotic nightmares where he alternately made insufferably vanilla love to Alec or killed him in the middle of passionate kinky sex.

Needless to say, Magnus was not in the mood to party on Friday night. However, he couldn’t just cancel at the last minute. Even if it was only an informal get together of fewer than twenty people at Club Chaos.

Magnus told himself it would be fine. Lydia, Aline, and Helen never showed up anyway, Verlac and Morgenstern would be busy making out with their girlfriends most of the night, and – if the good Lord existed and had any kind of mercy at all – Alexander Lightwood had gotten Cat’s reinforced message and would stay away.

Magnus dared to hope when Isabelle Lightwood showed up without her big brother. She had also found a different townie to make out with for the night. This one was a lanky black guy with sharp features and a smile that reminded Magnus unnervingly of Baron Samedi.

Several drinks later, his mood started to perk up. Simon had pulled out his guitar. Not only could the boy play, he could sing with the voice of an angel who hadn’t so much fallen as he had sauntered vaguely downwards, to quote one of Magnus’s favorite books.

Cat elbowed him in the ribs and pointed at Raphael.

The poor cinna-bun had to be unaware of his facial expression – otherwise, he would have killed everyone in the room and left no witnesses. The look on his face was softer than cashmere and unabashedly fond.

Simon was oblivious because he was playing with his eyes closed. 

Magnus buried his face in Cat’s shoulder to hide his chortling.

They had just started to play dirty charades when Alec showed up. Of course, he walked into the room in the middle of Magnus pantomiming “doing it doggy style” to the group.

“Discovery Channel!” Simon yelled nonsensically.

Everyone was laughing their asses off, ignorant to the detail that Magnus had frozen mid-thrust.

Cat was quick to catch on, though. She whirled around and was out of her seat, intercepting Alec before he could reach Magnus.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Alec’s eyes drifted over Cat’s head, crossed the room, and burned right through Magnus.

Magnus couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything except stand in front of everyone and stare back at Alexander like an imbecile.

Alec looked away. His shoulders tensed and he moved to step past Cat.

“Get out of my way, Catarina. I can’t deal with you right now.”

Cat wasn’t fazed. She stepped back in front of Alec and placed her hand on his chest.

“This is your last warning, Lightwood. Try it one more time and I swear I’m going to show you a whole new world of pain.”

Alec huffed out a humorless laugh, shook his head with a frustrated glare, and threw his hands up.

“I’m not here for him.” The words clapped like thunder. “Now, get out of my way.”

Alec stepped around her and stormed past all of them. He disappeared into one of the box stalls near the other end of the stable. When he came back out, he was dragging his little sister along by her arm. She looked like a hot mess and was teetering precariously on her stiletto heels.

“Alec-lec me go. Lemme go, Alec. What are you doing? This is so emburr- embarra … Hi ‘m sorry, guys. He’s such a…”

Isabelle didn’t finish her slurred sentence. She keeled over and threw up all over the stable floor.

“Real classy, Izzy,” Morgenstern drawled.

“Shut your mouth,” Alec barked at him before he turned back to his sister. He pulled her hair out of her face and let her wipe her mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re done.”

“No,” she whined. “Alec, please.”

Magnus couldn’t tear his eyes away from Alec’s face.

His features might as well have been chiseled in stone. He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch, didn’t even scowl or frown or anything. It was a perfect blank mask as Alexander Lightwood shoved his arms under his little sister’s knees and picked her up like an untamed shrew.

When he walked past Magnus with Isabelle squirming in his arms, Magnus noticed for the first time that there were needle marks in the crook of Isabelle Lightwood’s elbow.

Catarina’s hand on his back made him realize he was still staring out the barn doors long after Alec had disappeared.

The weekend was a blur of alcohol and nightmares. Magnus was still halfway between drunk and hungover by the time Monday morning rolled around. He skipped his early classes and stayed in bed.

He was dragging himself across campus to the Lightwood Building for lunch when someone barreled into him and almost knocked him over.

“Magnus! You have to come. Now.”

Simon grabbed him by his jacket and pulled.

“What?”

“It’s Cat and Alec!”

Magnus felt his stomach plummet. His feet started to run on their own.

Simon raced him up the stone stairs and through the glass doors into the marble entrance hall. They arrived just in time to see the crowd disperse.

Mr. Rey, the history teacher, marched Alec and Cat toward them. They both looked rumpled. Alec’s face was made of stone. Cat’s umber complexion had a distinct cherry undertone. 

“What happened?” Magnus asked quickly.

“That is none of your concern, Mr. Bane,” Mr. Rey drawled.

Magnus snapped his head around and glared at the arrogant man with his sad ‘90s ponytail and his cheap knockoff Armani suit.

“I didn’t ask you.”

Rey narrowed his eyes and deliberately turned his head to Cat and Alec. “To the headmistress’s office, now.”

Neither of them looked at Magnus as they walked past him out of the building. He whirled around to Simon.

“Did you see what happened?”

“Yeah? Kinda? Part of it. Maybe. It was crazy. Cat just lost it, dude. She went full Black Widow.”

Too worried to bother deciphering Simon’s code, Magnus grabbed him and shook him by the shoulders.

“Make sense, Simon.”

“She hit him,” Simon blurted. “Punched him, then kicked him. Like Black Widow.”

Magnus’s mind snapped into overdrive. Cat had physically assaulted Alec in front of witnesses. Alicante Academy had a zero-tolerance policy for violence. Rey had been the teacher who had caught her. Magnus had humiliated the man several times in the past couple of weeks alone, including just now.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly.

“Thank you, Simon. You can go now.”

Magnus stepped away from him and pulled out his phone. The screaming headache threatening to tear his brain out through his eyes and ears returned with a vengeance. He was in no condition to make this call, but he had to do it.

He dialed the number and put the phone to his ear. It rang four times before the call connected.

“Magnus? What a coincidence. I was just thinking about you.”

The voice sent a chill down his spine. Magnus straightened his shoulders and rubbed two fingers in circles on his temple.

“Hello, father,” he said quietly.

“To what do I owe the pleas—”

“Let’s not.” Magnus cut him off before he could start their usual dance. “We both know I wouldn’t make this call if I wasn’t desperate.”

“Then what is it you so desperately desire, son?”

His father used the word ‘son’ like a gun to his chest. He’d always hated the way it sounded in that arrogant, drawling tone.

“Cat’s in trouble,” he bit out. “She got into a fight with Alexander Lightwood.”

Magnus closed his eyes and hoped he had been able to make it sound like he wasn’t personally involved.

“Your most recent unproductive indiscretion.”

_So much for that_.

Magnus’s heart turned to ice in his chest. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. His father knew everything. About everyone. Always.

“Yes. She fought with him because of me. If you don’t intervene, they’ll expel her. I need you to talk to the headmistress.”

The other end of the line went silent.

Magnus gagged on it, but he managed to choke out the word his father expected to hear.

“Please.”

“This will cost you, son.”

“Name your price.”

“I’ll let you know.”

A put-upon sigh filtered down the line and Magnus could vividly imagine the expression on his father’s angular face. His narrow, slanted eyes would be crinkled at the corners as he smiled to himself, knowing he had Magnus in the palm of his hand.

“I presume the headmistress will organize a meeting with the parents. Send me the details.”

Magnus’s ice-heart exploded. “You’re coming here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Just send me the details and the number for Herondale’s direct line.” His father clicked his tongue. “I detest having to deal with that impertinent woman.”

It was a not so subtle reminder that Magnus would owe a steep price for this intervention.

“I know.”

The line on the other end clicked. His father had disconnected the call without a goodbye.

“Dude, who the hell was that?”

Magnus sucked in a breath and froze, barely stopping himself from jumping. He had not expected Simon to still be around.

“Nobody,” he answered curtly.

“Yeah, right,” Simon quipped with a snort. “That’s why you look like you just vomited a bucket-load of slugs.”

Magnus looked over at the brunette bundle of nerves beside him. Half the time, he was convinced Simon didn’t even know what was coming out of his mouth until someone else reacted to it.

“It was my father.”

“Oh.” Simon’s brows furrowed and his upper lip curled with a grimace. “What’s he gonna do?”

Magnus sighed. “You’ll see.”

When they all met for dinner, Cat was frantic. She tried to explain what had happened, but she was so caught up in apologizing and fretting over being expelled that she was hardly making any sense.

“I lost it. I shouldn’t have lost it. He’s so messed up, and I know he’s messed up, and that thing with his sister, and I didn’t mean to lose it, but I lost it.”

Her eyes flitted all over the room, probably looking for Alec. Magnus followed her gaze and noticed that neither of the Lightwoods had showed up for dinner; nor had Jace Herondale or Clary Fray.

Cat made a distressed noise and grabbed Magnus’s hand.

“I’m sorry, magpie. I’m so sorry. She called both our parents. Right in front of us. His mom is scary.” Cat’s dark eyes went wide as she pressed her other hand to her forehead. “God, my dad’s going to kill me.”

“Calm down, sweetie. It’s going to be okay.”

Magnus had no idea where he was pulling his serenity from, but he held on to it. He squeezed Cat’s hand and rubbed his palm in circles over her back.

“You’ll see, it’ll be all right. It’s all going to be okay.”

“How can you say that?” she screeched.

“Just trust me,” he said with a smile. “It’s going to be just fine.”

After all, he had pretty much sold his soul to make sure that it would be.

He couldn’t even be mad at Cat. If their situations had been reversed, he would have done the same thing. Protective instincts and emotional baggage were nasty demons to fight. 

“When are they supposed to come in?” he asked calmly.

“Tomorrow. 3:00 pm. Alec’s mom. My dad. I’m dead.”

Magnus nodded and pulled out his phone. He texted his father and attached the contact information with Headmistress Herondale’s direct line to the message. The two little check marks showing that the message had been read were the only acknowledgement he received.

The next afternoon at 2:45 pm, Magnus and Simon walked Cat to Herondale’s office. Once Cat had disappeared inside the front room, he and Simon found an inconspicuous place to lurk while they waited for everyone else to show up.

“Where’s cinna-bun?”

“Church-thing,” Simon muttered. “Remember, we talked about it at dinner?”

“Sorry, yeah.”

Magnus honestly had no recollection of it. He’d been too busy trying to keep Catarina from flying apart.

“Oh, shit.”

Simon straightened up and pressed himself against the wall as if he could actually go invisible if he just tried hard enough. Never mind that a lanky brunette in an arctic green blazer stood no chance of blending in with eggshell colored plaster.

“Relax,” Magnus said quietly. “Her dad shows up ten minutes early for everything.”

Cat’s father was dressed in full uniform with a plethora of medals and plastic bits on his chest. The look on his face made Magnus’s knees twitch, ready to drop and do push-ups until his arms gave out.

Magnus closed his eyes and sent every bit of his love and sympathy toward Cat. She would need it.

Next came Alec. He was five minutes early. His school uniform was impeccable. His hair was smoothed down and parted on the left, doing his best impression of John F. Kennedy. Magnus wanted to rip his fingers through it, mess it up, and kiss him until that damn stone mask cracked into a thousand pieces and revealed the real Alec.

Mrs. Lightwood stepped through the door into the headmistress’s office at exactly 3:00 pm. Her hair was the same shade as Alec’s, styled in a flawless French twist. She wore a fashionable black skirt-suit and just enough subtle expensive jewelry to make it clear she could afford anything she wanted. Her heels and purse were unapologetically Gucci.

“Come on.”

Magnus smacked the back of his hand against Simon’s stomach and started sneaking closer to the door. It was the only way they might stand a chance of hearing what was going on inside.

“Are you crazy?”

When Magnus looked back, Simon was still doing his best to merge with the wall. Magnus rolled his eyes and put himself right next to the door. He still couldn’t hear anything.

The door opened.

“Creepy.” Headmistress Herondale’s assistant, Madeleine, stared at Magnus with a mix of pity and repugnance on her pale face. She pointed at the row of chairs next to the closed door into Herondale’s private office. “Your father says to come in and have a seat.” 

Magnus nodded stiffly. If she thought this was creepy, she hadn’t seen anything yet. He sat down in the chair closest to the door.

Madeleine went back to her desk and picked up the phone.

“Yes,” she said, “I will put you through now.” She pushed a couple of buttons.

“What is it, Madeleine?” Imogen Herondale’s grating voice drifted through the door beside Magnus.

“Asmodeus Bane is on the line for you.”

“I’m in a meeting.”

“He says that is precisely why he’s calling, ma’am.”

“Put him through.”

Madeleine pushed a few more buttons. She hung up the phone and looked at Magnus with a blank stare in her hazel eyes.

He smirked. “Creepy, I know.”

His attention snapped back to the door beside him when he heard Herondale’s voice bite out a clipped, “You’re on speaker now, Mr. Bane.”

His father’s voice was as sweet and poisonous as arsenic.

“Thank you, Imogen.” He sighed. “I am joining this meeting because I was asked to clarify that the incident in question was preceded by a private altercation that took place between my son and young Mr. Lightwood, which remained undisclosed at the discretion of Magnus.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, even as his blood went cold. Trust his father to find the most loquacious way to say that Cat had kicked Alec because Alec had hurt Magnus.

“I think it would be in the best interest of everyone involved if we conclude this particular issue as quickly and quietly as possible and return to business as usual. Suspend the girl for a few days if you must, but do not forget she was acting on behalf of my son.”

Magnus dropped his head. His fingers clenched around the edge of his seat.

“There is no need to drag this out into something messy. I understand the Lightwood family have been … struggling recently with public perception for unrelated reasons. By the way, give my best to your daughter, Maryse. I wish her a speedy recovery.”

Magnus felt his stomach churn. His father had perfected the art of thrusting an unexpected dagger precisely between someone’s ribs long before Magnus had been born. That didn’t make it any less shocking to witness.

Maryse Lightwood’s tone foamed as bitter as a mouthful of cyanide.

“Thank you, Asmodeus. I’ll be sure to pass it along.”

“Wonderful,” his father drawled. “Now that this matter has been resolved, I really must get back to business. Have a good day.”

Magnus flew out of his chair and burst out of the office. He ran straight into Simon’s arms in the hallway.

“What the hell happened in there?”

Magnus shook his head and dragged Simon off to the side.

Maryse Lightwood was the first to storm out. Alec was two steps behind her, following her Gucci heels like a beaten dog.

Magnus wanted to scream after him, but he bit his tongue and held on to Simon’s jacket like a lifeline.

Cat stepped out next. Her dad’s heavy hand rested on her shoulder and turned her around as soon as the door had closed behind them.

“At attention, soldier,” he barked.

Cat straightened up immediately, hands at her sides, staring straight ahead with a hard expression.

“I understand you were trying to protect your friend.” Her father’s tone was perfectly calm. His voice still boomed. “But there is a right way and a wrong way to do things, and you chose the wrong way.” 

Cat stood perfectly still. Magnus could see tears glistening in her eyes, but she held them back.

“And I don’t give two shits out of a horse’s ass what that man said or that the headmistress let you off the hook. You’re going to spend your winter vacation at home without phone and internet, working and otherwise grounded, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, General,” Cat said firmly.

“At ease, soldier.”

Cat’s posture drooped into a miserable hunch as she looked up at her dad.

“I’m so sorry, daddy.”

The general grabbed her by the shoulder again. This time, he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

“Come on,” he said gruffly, “take me out to the parking lot. Your mom sent me with care packages for you and your friends.”

Magnus and Simon watched quietly as Catarina and her dad left. Her dad’s arm remained wrapped firmly around her shoulders. 

A few minutes later, Magnus and Simon stepped out of the Admin building into the cold, humid air. The sky was overcast, but the sun was giving it her best to keep the day nice for a little while longer.

“Again,” Simon said as they walked down the gravel path. “What the hell happened in there?”

Magnus shrugged. “My father called into the meeting. Cat won’t get expelled.”

Simon made an indescribable noise in his throat. “How?”

“It’s what he does.”

“But … I don’t … How?” Simon asked again with flapping hands and twitching brows. “His name’s not even on any of the buildings!”

Magnus laughed. His proclivity for dramatic performance would never allow him to pass up such an excellent opportunity. He bumped Simon’s shoulder and indicated a turn up ahead in the gravel path.

“I’ll show you.”

They followed a serpentine path up a hill. At the top was a round, brick-paved terrace with a wide stone plinth. The terrace overlooked most of the school grounds, and the bronze plaque mounted on the plinth had a detailed map of Alicante Academy.

Magnus pulled Simon close with one arm around his shoulder and swept his other hand in a grand arc across the view in front of them.

“Look, Simba,” he said in his best James Earl Jones impersonation, “everything the light touches … is the property of Asmodeus Inc.”

Simon froze. “Seriously?”

“Uh-huh.”

Magnus pointed at the dedication chiseled along the bottom edge of the bronze plaque and waited for the inevitable fallout.

Simon exhaled a shaky breath. His whole body was vibrating like a tuning fork. Then he raised his chin, nodded to himself, shook his head, shrugged. When he looked at Magnus, his eyes sparkled behind those godawful bottle bottom glasses – they really needed to have that conversation about contact lenses.

Simon grinned and pointed in a random direction. “What about that shadowy place?”

Magnus chuckled. “That’s where he keeps his summer residence.”

“Complete with the bones of his victims and sycophant hyenas that drool at his feet?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Does he ever tell you to ‘be prepared’?”

“All the time.”

The Lion King references kept coming all the way back down the hill. Magnus didn’t think anyone had ever taken the news about who his father was as well as Simon Lewis.

They parted ways in front of Penhallow Hall. Simon had plans to meet up with Raphael after the church-thing. He had offered Magnus to tag along, but Magnus didn’t feel up to it.

He headed to his room to get changed before dinner. He could smell himself, ripe with cold sweat after dealing with his father. He closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief.

Alexander Lightwood was sitting on the foot of his bed.

Magnus closed his eyes, counted to three, and opened them again.

Alec was still there.

As if that wasn’t disturbing enough, Magnus’s room was as pristine as if it had been befallen by an army of cleaning personnel. The bed was made. The floor and the bedside table were free of litter. His closet …

Magnus’s brain performed a record scratch. His closet looked like a glossy picture from one of those “personal organizer” ads that kept harassing him on his phone.

Alexander Lightwood had broken into his room and cleaned the fuck out of it.

Magnus laughed weakly. “Just what…”

Alec’s long dark brows were perfectly smooth. The stone mask was still firmly in place.

“Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?”

Magnus raised his brows. “You accidentally made a clean spot, and then you couldn’t stop?”

Alec said nothing.

Magnus sighed. “What do you want, Alec?”

“I don’t want to die.”

The words dropped between them like a challenge. Magnus swallowed and straightened his back.

“You used me,” he said coldly. “You would’ve let me strangle you to death. I saw it, Alec. Don’t lie.”

“I was careless. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right, it won’t,” Magnus snapped.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Magnus tried to look everywhere but the stone mask and that insufferable John F. Kennedy hair. Unfortunately, that meant he was looking at his closet. Anger burned like a double shot of vodka in his gut.

“Put it back,” he snarled.

“Pardon?”

Alec flinched. It was just a tiny crack in the façade, but Magnus had seen it.

“My closet. Put it back the way it was, right now.”

“You’re jok—”

“Do it or get out.”

Alec rose stiffly from the bed. His beautiful brows furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down. There was a stormy look in his eyes.

Magnus controlled his breathing as much as he could. He had to clench his stomach to stop a triumphant snarl when Alec walked into the closet and put his hand on one of the hangers.

“Now, Alexander.”

The hanger left the rod with a jarring click and landed, heavy with a pair of linen slacks, on the closet floor.

“Go on.”

Magnus soaked up every minuscule expression on Alec’s face while he watched: the way his brows furrowed, creating deep wrinkles above the bridge of his nose; the way his eyes narrowed, hiding behind long lashes; the way his nostrils flared; the way the muscle in his jaw twitched when he clenched his teeth. There was a shallow scratch on Alec’s left cheek that hadn’t been there before.

Shirt after shirt, jacket after jacket, pants, and skirts, and shawls hit the floor. Alec pulled them out individually as if he were pulling stitches from an open wound.

When he was done, and the closet had been restored to its original mess and then some, Alec turned around with drooping shoulders and his head bowed, staring at the floor.

Nothing was left of the terrible blank mask except that abominable hair.

Magnus closed the distance between them. He cradled Alec’s jaw in his hand and brushed his thumb below the cut on Alec’s cheek.

“What happened there?”

“Mother slapped me.”

Magnus nodded. Standard parent fare when they ran out of words to scream. He started to pull his hand away, but Alec’s fingers around his wrist stopped him.

“Magnus, please.”

Magnus sighed and rested their foreheads together. Cat’s warning was kicking and screaming inside his head.

He stubbornly brought his other hand up and pushed both of them through Alec’s hair, fingers snaring and tugging at the thick, dark strands. When Alec leaned into it and moaned low in his throat, it bolted through Magnus like an electric shock. He had to clear his throat to speak.

“I can be there for you, and I can…”

He had almost said “love you”. Instead, he pressed a quick kiss to Alec’s mouth and nipped at Alec’s bottom lip with his teeth.

“I can fuck you, but I can’t fix you. No matter how much I want to. Not like this. So, you need to promise me you’ll get help, okay? Real help. From a professional.”

His fingers were still buried in Alec’s hair and he refused to let go until he had that promise.

Alec shrugged and nodded against his forehead.

“Not good enough,” Magnus said stubbornly. “Promise me.”

Alec sighed as if Magnus was asking for the whole world and maybe the moon while he was at it. But he didn’t pull away.

He slung his arms around Magnus’s waist and when his brows crinkled against Magnus’s forehead and his lips finally moved, he said it.

“I promise.”


	11. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to put out a quick thank you, again, for all the amazing amount of feedback and kudos you guys give to this story. It means a lot. 
> 
> Okay, enough waffling. On with the show.
> 
> **WAIT!** There is an uncomfortable conversation toward the middle of this chapter that deals with illegal/unsafe abortion, so... yeah.
> 
> ###### 

When Raphael got back to Blackthorn Hall, Simon was waiting for him in the common room, wearing a groove into the Persian carpet. The moment Raphael cleared his throat, Simon’s head snapped up in his direction and he stopped mid-pace.

“So,” he said without preamble. “Magnus’s dad is apparently the evil emperor from Star Wars.”

Raphael smirked. “Palpatine?”

Simon’s face lit up with his smile. “You know the movies?”

Raphael rolled his eyes. He might not be a card-carrying nerd like Simon, but there was hardly anyone left on the planet who didn’t know the Star Wars ennead.

“What makes him worthy of the title?” he asked instead of dignifying the silly question with an answer.

Simon flopped down on the couch with his legs splayed wide and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Apparently, he owns the whole school and like everyone in it. He made one phone call, and not only did Cat not get expelled for hitting Alec, she didn’t even get punished at all. Except by her dad, who is like ‘General Dad’. Think every hard-ass Army General you’ve ever seen in a movie, amplified by a hundred, and then try to blend that with Morgan Freeman in the old Batman movies and you pretty much get the picture.”

“Ah,” said Raphael as he plopped down on the couch next to Simon.

He was relieved that Cat wouldn’t get expelled. She had been wrong to attack Lightwood, but she was still a friend, and the whole situation was complicated. Expelling her would have done nothing to fix it.

When Simon turned his head, he was still smiling. “How’d the church-thing go?”

“It was good.” Raphael paused. “Just paperwork, mostly. Stuff I had to fill out to volunteer at the nursing home.”

He had also had an unexpected conversation with Father Aldertree about his faith and his plans for the future. Raphael wasn’t sure he wanted to share that yet. He had a lot to think about, and his head wasn’t in the right place for it. Right now, he just wanted to relax and hang out with Simon.

“That’s cool.” Simon nodded. “When do you start?”

“Saturday.”

They would send a shuttle to pick up Raphael and the other volunteers and take them to the nursing home for the afternoon before they dropped everyone back off in time for dinner.

“Cool,” Simon said again. Then he smacked Raphael’s leg. “Hey, are you ready to be crushed at farming?”

“What?”

“The game I told you about, remember?”

Simon slung himself over the arm of the couch and nearly fell off before Raphael grabbed him by the belt to hold him steady. When he came back up, he had a square yellow board game box in one hand.

Raphael sighed. “You were being serious.”

Simon made an offended noise. “I never joke about games.”

They played Agricola: All Creatures Big and Small for the next couple of hours. Simon crushed him all four times.

Raphael was still mildly annoyed by the time they walked into the mess hall for dinner after stopping by Simon’s room so he could put away the game and take his pills.

“Don’t be a sore loser.” Simon bumped his shoulder. “Oh, I know, next time, we’ll play a co-operative one. How do you feel about survival horror? I could get my mom to send my Zombicide stuff, but maybe that’s too much. Maybe Arkham Horror? Oh, I bet you’d love Pandemic. You get to save the world from nasty virus outbreaks.”

Raphael dropped his tray on the table, sat down opposite Magnus and Cat, and looked up with what he hoped was a recognizable plea for help in his eyes.

Simon sat down next to him, started bouncing his leg, and kept going without missing a beat.

“Hey, guys. Raphael and I were just talking about what board games we could play next. Are you interested?”

“That depends,” drawled Magnus. “Are they dirty board games?”

“Not really.” Simon shrugged. “At least, not the ones I own so far. But I could check into it and see what I can come up with.”

Cat snickered. Magnus waggled his brows with a suggestive noise and said, “Tempting.” 

Raphael groaned. Obviously, no one was going to save him. He resigned himself to playing and losing all manner of board games for the foreseeable future.

He hooked his foot around Simon’s ankle to stop him from shaking the whole table and dug into his mac and cheese. 

Saturday arrived quicker than expected. The shuttle stopped in the middle of a cracked parking lot in front of a sprawling two-story building. Engraved in a tall stone at the edge of the parking lot were the words Sunny Meadow Retirement Community.

A gray-haired sallow guy in a black suit with rimless glasses and a big clipboard shepherded the group of volunteers into a common room that looked like the waiting area for a doctor’s office.

He introduced himself as Mr. Starkweather and explained their job to them in the exact words that had been used on the paperwork Raphael had read and filled out in Father Aldertree’s office on Tuesday.

Raphael listened quietly. He raised his brows when several hands went up, despite the fact that the instructions were pretty clear and basic. Most of the questions involved getting class credit and how many hours were required.

Mr. Starkweather left them in the common room. A few minutes later, a handful of nurses walked in and separated them into smaller groups to take them to their assigned seniors. 

“Your charge is Rosa,” the nurse said when they were standing alone in front of a closed door on the second floor. “She’s been here longer than I have. Never gets any family visits. We don’t even have any contacts on file.” She sighed. “Anyway, she is in an advanced stage of dementia, which means she won’t be a riveting conversationalist, and if you do come here more than once, don’t expect her to remember you. Mostly, you’re just here to push her wheelchair so she can get out of her room and get some fresh air.”

Raphael nodded. 

The nurse opened the door and motioned for him to go ahead.

The room was barren. There was a hospital bed, a bedside table, and a large wall of smooth white cabinets with small silver locks right next to the door. The only personal piece of furniture was a large oak dresser with a rectangular mirror on top. It was pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the window. The curtains were drawn.

A frail white-haired woman sat hunched in a wheelchair, turned toward the dresser. Above the mirror and to the right, a television was mounted to the wall. A black-and-white movie was on. It didn’t seem like she was actually watching it.

Raphael cleared his throat and stepped closer.

“Hello, Rosa,” he said quietly, stooping on his knees so she could see him better. “My name is—”

“Angel!” Rosa’s wrinkled hands flew to her mouth as she jumped in shock. “My angel!”

“I’m sorry, I—”

She grabbed his hand so fiercely Raphael worried she might break her own fingers. He let her pull him closer and held very still while she touched his face as if she couldn’t believe he was real.

“My angel,” she said again with a trembling smile, tears glistening in her cloudy eyes. “Where have you been?”

The nurse cleared her throat loudly and called out in a pleasant tone, “Rosa!”

Rosa’s head turned toward the sound and she let go of Raphael.

“Oh, Marie. Time for my pills?”

Raphael used the opportunity to step away and put some distance between them. His heart slowed down and he shot a glare at the nurse. A little warning would have been nice.

“Not yet, dear.” While she talked to Rosa, the nurse beckoned him over with two fingers. “I’ll come back when it’s time.”

“Oh, all right.” Rosa nodded. “Do you see? My little angel has come.”

“I see that, Rosa. How nice of him.” As soon as Raphael stood beside Marie, she leaned close and lowered her voice to a dull murmur. “Her angel is her brother. We never got his name out of her, but if that’s what makes her happy, just play along and try not to upset her. Think you can do that?”

Raphael nodded.

“Good,” said Marie, and then she left and closed the door behind her.

Raphael stepped closer again, keeping himself out of Rosa’s reach. She was still looking at him as if he were a miracle happening in front of her.

“How are you feeling today, Rosa?”

“Wonderful,” she said. “Where have you been?”

“School.” He told the truth because he did not want to add on to the lies.

“Oh, wonderful. I always halfed you would be ale to go back. Do you think a lot? Are they kind to you?”

“Yes, Rosa. They’re kind. I’ve made some friends.”

He thought of Simon and Magnus and Cat. He wondered what Rosa would think if she actually met them. Especially Magnus.

Raphael looked around, inevitably drawn to the only personal belongings in the room. He stepped closer to the old oak dresser.

There was only one photograph. It sat in front of a statuette of the Virgin Mary, surrounded by several small folding frames with paintings of saints, a rosary, a boar bristle hairbrush, and some personal trinkets. Raphael picked it up and almost dropped the heavy frame.

The boy in the sepia picture was about fifteen. His eyebrows were thinner and his features were a little softer than Raphael’s, but if you had stuck him in the middle of a family picture, nobody would have doubted he was one of the Santiago boys.

“My angel,” Rosa said behind him. “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

There was a thick, hard lump in Raphael’s throat. He wondered how Rosa had lost her brother. It must have been a long time ago, judging by the age of the photograph. After all this time, decades later, and she still hung on to the thought of him.

_Is that how it’s going to be? _

Seventy years from now, would he be sitting in a wheelchair in some nursing home, all alone, yearning for his dead family?

Raphael decided then and there, he would play along. If he could ease her suffering, even just a little bit, he would do it.

He placed the photograph back on the dresser, walked up to Rosa, and crouched down in front of her. He placed his hands over hers before she could reach for his face again. 

“It’s wonderful to see you, too, Rosa. I thought we could go for a walk. Would you like that?”

Her hazy eyes lit up with joy. “I’d love that, my angel.”

When the shuttle dropped Raphael off back at the academy, he didn’t feel hungry, so he skipped dinner in favor of a long walk.

His afternoon with Rosa had been intense.

He had done his best to pretend he was her brother, and she had talked and talked. Sometimes she hadn’t made any sense because the words coming out of her mouth weren’t actual words or they were actual words that made no sense in context.

Raphael had almost stormed off when she had started talking about ‘their’ mother. He hadn’t meant to, but it had hurt so much. Then he had snapped at Rosa, and she had gotten angry. She had accused him of being a bad son for leaving the family.

Rosa had no idea how right she was, but the words had stung all the same. Apologizing hadn’t made him feel any better. Neither had her wrinkled hands patting his cheek.

Raphael marched across the gravel paths in no particular direction. Of course, that wasn’t true, because he knew the paths well enough by now to realize he was heading toward the chapel.

His phone buzzed inside his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the screen. It was a message from Simon.

**You back yet?**

Raphael winced. Simon, Magnus, and Cat were probably waiting for him in the mess hall. He texted back quickly.

**Not hungry. Catch up with u later.**

He stuck his phone back in his pocket and kept walking.

The chapel was empty and quiet. Raphael genuflected at the altar and crossed himself before he headed to Father Aldertree’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. It didn’t come as a surprise that the father’s nose was buried in paperwork from his desk.

“It’s just me, father.”

“Ah, Raphael.” He looked up with a smile. “How was your first day at Shady Meadows?”

Raphael chuckled. “It’s actually Sunny Meadow, father.”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” Father Aldertree pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed the corners of his eyes. “The names blend together after a while.”

“It was good,” Raphael said slowly.

Father Aldertree extended his hand to the visitor chair and Raphael sat down with a sigh.

“It was intense,” he admitted. “The lady I’m helping, she’s all alone. She has no family.”

He did not allow himself to add “like me”. His own situation wasn’t important to the work he was doing.

“I hope my visits will make her feel better. She’s a very sweet lady.”

She was also able to remember a formidable amount of vulgar words when she got angry, but there was no need to mention that in front of Father Aldertree.

The father smiled. “Have you given any more thought to what we discussed on Tuesday?”

Raphael’s stomach fluttered. “A little.”

Truthfully, he hadn’t had a lot of time to think about it. When he was in class, he was too busy keeping up with his coursework, and when he was with Simon or Cat and Magnus, he was usually too distracted to think about anything except what was happening in the moment.

Father Aldertree’s smile didn’t falter. He pushed away the paperwork he had been working on and leaned forward on his desk, linking his fingers.

“I really think you would make an excellent candidate for the seminary.”

Raphael bowed his head and scratched at his wrist. If he let himself think about the idea, it felt weird. Not wrong but odd, like a fictional version of himself.

“I thought the priesthood was a calling? I didn’t, I mean, I haven’t …”

He hadn’t received any clear sign from God that he should join the seminary. He prayed, and he did charity work, and he visited the chapel probably more frequently than anyone aside from Father Aldertree, but that was just because it felt right and because it gave him peace of mind like very little else in his life could.

Father Aldertree snickered. “Did you expect a personal email from God?”

Raphael’s brows furrowed at the joke. Of course, he had not expected anything like a personal email or a burning bush. He had just expected that there was more to being called into the priesthood than a casual conversation with the school chaplain.

“I’m sorry,” Father Aldertree said sincerely. “I think I understand what you mean. You probably thought that there would be some sort of single revelatory moment. The truth is usually more nuanced than that.” 

“How was it for you?” Raphael asked spontaneously. “If that’s okay to ask.”

“It’s all right.” Father Aldertree smiled. “I was prepared to tell you eventually.”

He leaned back in his chair and placed his folded hands on his lap. There was a contemplative look on his face as he turned toward the window.

“I grew up in a small parish in Louisiana about an hour outside of Arcadia – the kind of place where the funeral home is also a furniture store and the local pharmacy is a general store with a wire mesh storage locker behind the counter.”

Raphael nodded. He’d never been to a place like that, but it didn’t take much to imagine.

Father Aldertree smiled. “Needless to say, there wasn’t much to do, and a lot of the kids got in trouble any way they could find it. My mother did not approve. She ensured that I spent most of my free time at church or involved in church sponsored activities.”

A wistful smile crossed Father Aldertree’s face. Raphael wondered what he was seeing in his mind’s eye while he stared at the milk-glass diamond-grill window.

“Which is how I fell in love with the sexton’s daughter. She was bright, beautiful, fearless, and absolutely determined to commit every sin in the book before she turned eighteen.”

Raphael chuckled uncomfortably as he felt heat creep up his face. He could not imagine the man in front of him as a teenager, let alone as a teenager in love with a girl.

Aldertree cleared his throat. “We fell. In every way you could fall. My mother was furious but helpless to do anything. Her father was ready to take me out with his shotgun.” He paused to take a deep breath. “We had gotten her pregnant.”

Raphael almost choked on his own spit. He stared at Father Aldertree as if he was seeing a completely different person in his place. Nothing of the story sounded anything like the man he thought he had come to know over the past few weeks.

“Both of us fifteen, me black and her white, in rural Louisiana.”

Raphael pressed a hand over his mouth to stop himself from uttering the only word that jumped into his mind.

“Her father kicked her out. She did not want the baby. She did not want to marry me. She wanted to run away. My mother…” Aldertree laughed, shaking his head. “I never could look at her the same again. My mother knew of a man in Shreveport. I didn’t ask her how.”

Raphael knew where this story was going, except he had no idea how it could lead Father Aldertree to becoming a priest and then a chaplain at a private school for rich kids in New England.

Aldertree sighed. “I wish I could say that I convinced her otherwise, but she persisted and my mother drove us there. The man would not let us go into the room with her. When she came out, she was pale as a ghost, sweating, and cold. I still remember she was so cold.”

Aldertree clenched his hands, grasping something that was no longer there. Then he rubbed them against the fabric of his habit and clasped his fingers around his knees. When he looked up at Raphael, his eyes gleamed with a hard light.

“She died in the backseat of my mother’s car before we made it back home.”

Raphael had no idea what to say. Grief was not something you could compare like homework or answers to questions on a test.

Aldertree turned back to his desk and braced his folded hands on top of his paperwork.

“She was buried in our local cemetery. Her father made up some story. After everyone else was gone, the priest came to me. He knew. He had to have known. He still looked at me as a human being and he offered a path to forgiveness. No one else did.”

Raphael couldn’t imagine. He tried to visualize Father Aldertree as a wrecked teenager standing in front of a headstone, but it didn’t seem real.

Aldertree sighed. “I spent three more years in that town. I went to church every day. I did every job Father Johnson gave me, and, when he asked me if I wanted to join the seminary, I all but fell on my knees in front of him.”

He looked up and pinned Raphael with his gaze. The expression on his face was raw and more than Raphael could stomach. Raphael dropped his head and stared at the hardwood floor between his feet.

“What I am trying to tell you with this long, sordid story,” Father Aldertree said calmly, “is that it wasn’t one moment that made me want to be a priest. It wasn’t the moment she walked into that room or the moment she died in my arms. It was the days, the many, many days after her funeral, when Father Johnson showed me over and over that the only true love, the only forgiveness I could ever hope for, came from God and no one else. That was what made me commit to spend my life in service to him.”

Raphael swallowed. He still had no idea what to say. What could he say after having something this heavy dropped in his lap?

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Father Aldertree said as if he could read his mind. “Just think about it. Really think about whether you might be called to serve God. For what little it is worth, I believe you are.”

Raphael nodded. His stomach felt hollow and at the same time heavy with a weight he couldn’t name.

“Do you…” His throat closed up and he swallowed dryly before he tried again. “About closing up tonight?”

Father Aldertree chuckled. “I believe you’ve done enough work for today. Go on. I can close up by myself.”

Raphael nodded and bolted out of his chair. He still couldn’t make himself look Father Aldertree in the face.

“Good night, Raphael.”

“Good night, father.”

He barely managed to get the words out on his way through the door.

When Raphael burst out of the chapel, he all but ran into Simon. Raphael tried to pull himself together.

“How did you know I was here?”

Simon stopped pacing the stretch of gravel in front of the chapel and looked up with both hands shoved deep into the back pockets of his faded jeans. 

“You weren’t in your room. And you’re clearly upset, so...” He shrugged.

“I’m not upset.”

He was. He had been upset ever since he’d come back from the nursing home. His conversation with Father Aldertree hadn’t helped, but he wasn’t about to unload on Simon.

Simon narrowed his eyes behind his glasses and clenched his jaw. One hand came out of his back pocket and he started to count off on his fingers.

“You didn’t show up for dinner. You texted ‘Not hungry’ and you used a minor-case u. You never use ‘u’. You always type out the whole word.” 

Raphael looked down and kept his eyes on the gravel as they walked back toward the main campus. He didn’t want to talk about it. There was no need to burden Simon with his problems. It hit him like a slap upside the head that Simon had already gone out of his routine to come look for him.

“Did you take your pills?”

Simon stopped dead and stared at him. His eyes flashed with anger.

“Have you eaten since breakfast?” he asked pointedly.

Raphael cringed. He hadn’t meant to sound patronizing. He was just worried. He also hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast because the shuttle had picked him up before he had had the chance to eat lunch. 

“There was cake at the nursing home,” he said evasively.

It was the truth. Unfortunately, Rosa and he had started arguing before they had served the cake, so Raphael had only sat and stared at the slice in front of him instead of actually taking a bite.

“Sure, but did you eat any?” Simon asked knowingly.

_Damn you, puppy._

“No,” Raphael said through his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” said Simon, and there was an irritating note of smugness in his voice. “Good thing you have me to take care of you.”

Simon pulled something out of his jacket pocket and pressed it against Raphael’s chest. It was a couple of brownies wrapped in paper napkins.

Raphael chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not really—”

“Eat some or I swear I’ll force-feed you.”

Raphael made a face, but he relented and took a small bite out of one of the sugary-sweet monstrosities. He didn’t have much of a sweet tooth.

“I don’t suppose you’re hiding a bag of chips on you?”

“No,” Simon said, both hands back in his pockets, “but I’ll get you some out of the vending machine if you want.” He skipped on his feet.

Raphael could tell Simon was ready to bounce into a run if Raphael so much as tilted his head in a way that indicated “yes”. There was a part of him – and he would deny it to his dying day – that wanted to snap his fingers and say “fetch”.

He smiled. “That’s okay.”

“You sure?”

Raphael chuckled. “Positive.”

“Only fools are positive.” Simon waggled his brows.

“Stop.” Raphael laughed.

Simon grinned. “You wanna head over to the old stables? Magnus and Cat are probably already out there.”

Raphael shook his head. “No, I think I just want to be alone tonight.”

“Oh.” Simon deflated and hung his head. “Okay.”

“Do you want to come back to my room?”

Simon’s head whipped up.

They stared at each other.

Raphael bit the inside of his cheeks. He had not meant to say that. He did want to be alone. He just wanted to be alone with Simon nearby.

“Never mind. That was—”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

“Okay.”

They passed the vending machines at the back of the science building on their way to Blackthorn Hall. Simon bought enough salty snack food to survive three days sheltered in place if they had to. Raphael was the one who remembered to buy sodas to go with it.

Raphael’s room being the shoe box that it was, they dumped most of the food on his desk and sat down on his twin bed next to each other with their backs against the wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Simon said while they munched on a bag of BBQ chips between them.

“Not really.” Raphael stuck a couple of chips in his mouth and chewed.

“Do you want me to tell you about the bombshell news you missed at dinner?”

Simon’s leg started to jitter. Since it was Simon, it could have been anything. It was probably inconsequential or he would have already told him. Raphael closed his eyes and shook his head against the wall. 

“Not really,” he said again.

Things got very quiet for a minute. There was just the crinkling of the chip bag and the two of them breathing next to each other until Simon suddenly stopped.

“Do you want me to pet your hair and sing for you?”

Raphael froze. He slowly turned his head and opened his eyes.

Simon was vibrating so hard he was back around to sitting still. His eyes were wide open, staring at Raphael from behind his glasses without blinking. His fingers were clamped around his knees tightly enough to bruise himself. He was clearly serious about his offer.

Raphael snorted. He was a grown-ass guy. He wasn’t suffering an anxiety attack. He had just had a really long day, and a lot of really heavy stuff had been dumped on his shoulders, and he missed his family so much there was a physical hole in his stomach that no amount of salty snack food could ever hope to fill.

“Kinda,” was what came out of his mouth. 

Simon nodded like his head was on a spring. He moved the bag out of the way and wiped his chip-dusted hands on his jeans.

Raphael rolled his eyes. He was going to get that crap all over his hair. He moved over and settled between Simon’s legs, back to chest, with his arms hooked around Simon’s raised knees and his own legs dangling over the edge of the bed. At the first sensation of gentle fingers combing through his curls, Raphael leaned his head back onto Simon’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“What do you want me to sing?”

Simon’s voice was low and gentle, but not so close that it tickled uncomfortably like Magnus’s sometimes did. Raphael could feel himself relax.

“Whatever. I liked that song from the party.”

Simon snickered. “Bigmouth Strikes Again?”

Raphael snorted. “That one, too, but I meant the one you wrote.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.”

Simon cleared his throat and started to hum, then sing the song he had played at the last party. It was a mellow tune with lyrics about how some feelings were too big or too complicated to talk about and how to look for the things between words.

By the time the song was finished, Raphael was so calm he was nearly falling asleep. Simon’s fingers were still combing through his hair and Simon’s other arm was draped loosely around his chest.

He raised his head from Simon’s shoulder to apologize for falling asleep on him, but the words got stuck because Simon was looking at him funny. Raphael wasn’t sure what the look meant until it was too late.

Simon kissed him.

It felt nothing like in the movies, because things just didn’t work that way for Raphael. He sometimes wished they did. At least, it didn’t feel like a bird trapped inside his mouth this time. Simon was keeping his tongue in check.

Raphael smiled and waited for him to finish.

Simon pulled back and opened his eyes.

“Um.” That was as far as Raphael got.

Simon scrambled away from him as if he had turned into a horror creature from one of Simon’s comics. His eyes were huge behind his glasses, and he was breathing so hard he was going to start hyperventilating.

“Shit! Oh, no. Sorry. So sorry.”

“Simon, wait! Calm down. I—”

Simon didn’t hear him. He kept cursing and bolted out the door.

Raphael snarled at the empty room and banged his fist against the mattress. He added his own litany of curses to the list and checked his phone. They still had some time until curfew.

He pushed himself onto his feet and went after Simon.


	12. Misunderstandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,   
I hope the week has treated you well. Thanks as always for all the beautiful feedback and quiet kudos. On with the show.
> 
> ###### 

Simon stormed out of Blackthorn Hall and down the flagstone path between dorm buildings as fast as he could go without breaking into a run.

_Such a moron, Lewis, what the hell were you thinking? _

The way Raphael had looked at him, he’d been about three seconds away from telling Simon … Heaven only knew what, but Simon hadn’t been capable of sticking around to hear it because he’d kissed Raphael and, obviously, Raphael had not wanted to be kissed.

_Stupid idiot! _

He hadn’t even meant to. He hadn’t even known he was going to until it had happened.

Simon’s stomach twisted. He hiccuped and tried to calm his breathing, but it so wasn’t happening. He was going to work himself into a damn anxiety attack, and the only person who could help him probably hated his guts right now.

_Great._

He bolted through the door into Penhallow Hall and up the stairs.

This was so much worse than Clary. He hadn’t ever even kissed Clary. Hell, when had he even stopped being in love with Clary? The last time he’d checked, it had still hurt to look at her just holding hands with Jace. But yeah, he remembered, it hadn’t hurt as much.

Right now, it hurt so bad it burned or maybe that was just his lungs because he wasn’t breathing right.

Simon slammed the door behind him and collapsed on his bed, trying to breathe slowly.

He wasn’t even into guys. Okay, so there had been the occasional man-crush on hot TV characters, but everyone had those, right?

Why did he have to go and kiss Raphael? Twice! And this time without the excuse of drugs and an anxiety attack?

If this cost him his friendship with Raphael, Simon would never, ever, ever forgive himself. Ever.

A knock on the door barely made it through to him until it repeated, louder.

“Simon.” Raphael’s voice was calm as a summer breeze. “Can I please come in?”

Simon rolled his eyes and sucked in a breath to respond.

“You’re not obligated!”

The door snapped open and Raphael was inside. He looked annoyed. He closed the door not quite gently.

“You are not an obligation,” he growled.

“Still,” Simon said between shallow breaths. “Sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

Raphael came closer and stopped in front of the bed, staring down at him with his hands balled into fists.

Simon cringed and waited for it.

The noise of his desk chair rolling across the floor made him jerk his head around.

Raphael sat down right next to him with his fingers laced together and his hands squeezed between his knees.

“There’s stuff I need to tell you. Do you think you can listen?”

Simon grunted out a humorless laugh. “I’m freaking out, not deaf.”

“Sorry,” Raphael said automatically.

Simon snorted. Why was Raphael apologizing? He hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like Simon back the same way.

“Sorry I kissed you. Twice.”

Raphael chuckled. “The first one didn’t count. You were high and having an anxiety attack.”

Simon threw his arm over his face so he didn’t have to look at Raphael.

“Can we pretend the same for this one?”

“No.”

Simon sniffed. Of course, that would have been too much to hope for.

Raphael sighed. “The reason it didn’t go the way you hoped is because I’m different.”

Simon raised his arm and peeked out at Raphael. He was well versed in different. He was pretty sure he would have noticed if Raphael fit into any of the categories.

“Like how?”

“I don’t, um, feel the same way.”

Simon’s face screwed up as his stomach lurched. He’d known this was coming, but it still hurt to hear it. He hadn’t even known he was feeling that way about Raphael for more than five minutes, and here he was, getting rejected. 

“No shit.”

Raphael pulled his hands from between his knees and clenched them into fists. His glare should have cut the wall above Simon’s head in half.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

Raphael kept glaring at the wall. There was a distinct shade of red creeping up his jaw.

Simon lowered his arm back over his eyes. It was easier not to look angry rejection straight in the face.

“I don’t get ...” Raphael mumbled the last part too quietly for Simon to hear.

“What?”

Raphael sighed. “I’m trying to tell you …”

The next time Simon glanced at him, Raphael was sitting with his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his jaw locked in the same mulish expression he’d put on when Simon had suggested playing a fifth round of Agricola last Tuesday.

“What?” Simon asked again even more sharply.

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Simon huffed. He wished he could. No way he would. He’d just pissed away the closest friendship he’d ever had over a moment of epic stupidity that was probably nothing but his own hormones, or his meds, playing havoc with his brain.

“Fuck.”

He could feel the landslide coming down. This one was going to bury him whole. He did not want Raphael to be around for that.

“Can you please go?” Simon forced the words out. “Please? I want to be alone.”

“Simon—”

“Just go. Go. Now! Get out.”

The chair squeaked and the door closed with a bang.

Simon curled up against the wall, struggling to breathe.

The rest of the night fucked Simon over in all ways but one: it ended with a Sunday morning. Simon knew exactly where Raphael would be between 8:00 am and noon, so he could avoid him.

Simon walked into the mess hall around 8:30 am and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that their usual table had been taken over by a bunch of freshmen.

He caught a glimpse of Clary’s fiery mane at another table and started to head over, but then he saw that she was having breakfast with Jace.

The thought of watching the two be all lovey-dovey made Simon want to barf into his cornflakes before he’d even tried to eat anything. He turned away and looked for somewhere else to sit.

Maia was sitting at a table near the exit with a whole group of people. Across from Maia was her scary white-haired friend. Next to the scary girl sat Verlac’s girlfriend, Eloise, and the honey-blonde girl Morgenstern had made out with at the first party. Toward the end of the table sat two boys. One had a short haircut and a nasty scar on his right cheek. The other one had a wavy mane of dark hair and a smug smile. The seat next to Maia was empty.

Simon hesitated. They hadn’t talked at all since their conversation in the supply closet before FF. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go anywhere near her.

The thought hadn’t fully finished crossing his mind when Maia looked up, narrowed her eyes, and waved him over.

Simon squared his shoulders and stepped up to the table.

“Lewis,” she said and pushed out the chair next to her with the sole of her boot. “Have a seat. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

The guy with the long hair snorted.

Eloise giggled and leaned over to her blonde friend next to her. “He’s toast.”

The honey-blonde nodded with a sly grin. “Extra crispy.”

Maia rolled her eyes. “Shut up. It’s not like you don’t want to know what happened.” She looked up at Simon again. “Sit.”

Simon put his tray on the table and sat down with a sigh. They must have caught wind of the squabble between Magnus and Cat at dinner last night.

“It’s really not that big a deal.”

“Seriously?” Maia’s brows flew to her curly hairline. “I thought I’d explained this to you. There are rules. Catarina Loss should have been expelled. Now it looks like she’s not even getting a slap on the wrist, so we want to know what happened.”

“Huh?” Simon’s brain ground to a halt and changed direction. “Oh, the thing in the atrium!”

“Yes, the thing with Alec Lightwood. What did you think I was talking about?”

“I thought you meant the other thing with A—” He snapped his mouth shut. “Never mind.”

Man, he had almost blabbed Alec Lightwood’s private business to the whole school again. Why did this kind of shit have to keep happening to him? Simon was too exhausted and too frazzled and in no way equipped to deal with this kind of stress.

If Magnus and Alec wanted to have a secret relationship, they shouldn’t be texting each other in front of people. Especially not in front of Cat, who clearly still hated Alec’s guts.

“So,” Maia prodded.

Simon sighed. He wasn’t sure how much was okay to tell them.

Six pairs of eyes stared at him expectantly.

Simon cleared his throat and broached the subject carefully. 

“Do any of you know Magnus Bane’s dad?”

A round of expressive groans echoed around the table. Eloise rolled her eyes and the white-haired scary girl dropped her face into her palm. Money exchanged hands between the two boys at the end of the table. 

Maia nodded. “I should have known. Loss is not a scholarship kid, but her daddy sure doesn’t have the kind of money to sponsor a building.” She snickered. “Let me guess, Asmodeus Bane didn’t even show up. He probably sent some lackey with a sternly worded note delivered on a silver platter.”

Simon snickered. “Actually, he called into the meeting with Cat’s dad and Alec’s mom. The whole thing took maybe five minutes. It was creepy.”

Maia nodded sagely. “I told you, the rules don’t apply to them. Especially not Magnus. That’s why I warned you to be careful.”

Simon snorted. “Warned me? More like threatened me within an inch of my life.”

The long-haired guy snickered. “Maia’s never been what you’d call diplomatic.”

“Shut up, Jordan!”

The guy with the scar cleared his throat.

“She’s right, though,” he said in a mellow voice as he glanced at Maia. “We have to be careful not to cross them.”

All of a sudden, Simon wondered where the guy had gotten his scar.

A steel-toed boot drilled into his shin. Simon doubled over in pain and stared open mouthed at the white-haired scary girl across the table from him.

“Quit staring,” she snarled. “It’s rude.”

“No reason to amputate my leg!” Simon snapped, rubbing his shin, before he turned deliberately back to the guy. “Sorry for staring.”

“Whatever.” He brushed a calloused thumb over the scar. “I know it looks grim. The price of sweet success.”

Simon raised his brows. He started to ask the question, but the scary girl was already talking.

“Bat came in first place at the East Coast Grom Tour Championship last year.”

Simon gawked. “What kind of sport makes you shred your face?”

Bat snickered. “Surfing. I flew off the board and hit the rocks just right.” 

“Hardcore. I’m Simon, by the way, not ‘Lewis’.” He glared significantly at Maia.

Bat nodded. “I’m Bat. That’s Jordan.” He jerked his thumb toward the boy next to him before he pointed at each of the girls down the table. “Heidi, Eloise, and Gretel.” He snickered. “And you obviously know Maia.”

Simon wagged his head with a grin. “Oh yeah, we go way back.”

Everyone relaxed and returned to their breakfast. Even the scary girl, Gretel, seemed to warm up after Simon complimented Bat on his surfing skills. Simon got the feeling she had a crush no one was supposed to know about.

He tucked into his cornflakes. They were already going soggy. He should have picked the muffin. Raphael would have offered Simon his, even though they were Raphael’s favorite, which was why Simon had avoided them in the first place. Damnit.

“So.” He wrangled his brain onto a different subject. “What are you guys doing today?”

He still had to think of a way to avoid Raphael once he got out of the chapel at noon clear until curfew at 9:00 pm. He should probably turn off his phone. His mom had said she might call him, though.

“We’re going into town,” Maia answered for the group. “Why? Do you want to tag along and see how the other half lives?”

Simon raised his brows. “I am the other half, remember? Scholarship kid here, too?”

He was surprised to see Eloise and Heidi among the group. He had figured they were rich because they were dating Verlac and Morgenstern from the “eminent eight”.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” said Heidi. “We’ve never even heard the name Fairchild around here, and now there’s this supposed alumna who pays for her daughter plus one. It’s all very mysterious.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “You read too many thrillers. She probably got married a couple times and changed her name. For all we know she used to be a Carstairs or a Lovelace, maybe even another Morgenstern.”

Simon didn’t want to know. He hadn’t asked when Clary’s mom had started acting strange, and he still hadn’t asked when she had somehow talked Simon’s mom into allowing him to go to Alicante Academy. Some things were just better left to the adults.

“Anyway,” he said, stressing the word. “I’m up for downtown if it’s okay with you guys?”

The general consensus was agreement. Simon was relieved. It would make things so much easier if he could spend most of the day away from school. He could deal with the occasional uncomfortable moment that might pop up as long as he didn’t forget to take his pills.

“Oh, I just need to stop by my room before we leave. I’ll meet you guys at the gate?”

Maia raised her chin. “We plan on leaving in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be there.”

They headed into town and pretty much straight to the mall. Unlike his trip with Magnus, Cat, and Raphael, they spent their time mostly window shopping. Heidi and Eloise talked non-stop gossip about other students. With the exception of Izzy Lightwood, Simon had no idea who anyone was.

The prescription bottle kept burning a hole in the inside of his pocket, but Simon did his best to ignore it. There was no way he would skip a dose. Raphael would kill him.

“… band shirts?”

“Huh?”

Maia rolled her eyes. “I asked if you always wear band shirts.”

Simon looked down. He wore a white T-shirt with ‘The Smiths’ written in bold blue across the top, listing the dates and locations from their ‘The Queen is Dead’ tour.

“Bigmouth strikes again,” he muttered to himself before he looked up at Maia. “Yeah, I guess. I’m just really into music.”

Maia’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? What kind?”

Simon shrugged. “A little bit of everything, but mostly alternative and indie stuff you never hear on the radio anymore. I like rock, too. The obvious classics, R.E.M., Nirvana, Smiths, Killers, Beatles, Stones, that sort of stuff. I play guitar.”

“Sweet.” Maia smiled and ambled a little closer to him. “How long have you been playing?”

“Since I was eight. My bubbe bought me my first guitar.”

Maia wrinkled her brows. “What’s a ‘bubby’? Is that like an auntie?” 

“It’s what I call my grandmother. The guitar was a birthday gift that year.”

“Oh, cool.” Maia nodded. “And you’ve been playing ever since?”

“Yeah.”

Simon remembered telling Raphael about all the same things. It was weird how that made it somehow easier to talk to Maia now. She seemed genuinely interested, too. It was something about the way she tilted her head when she listened. Like she honestly enjoyed his company.

“Do you want to go see a movie together?” he blurted.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I’d like that. Right now?”

Simon nodded. Then he remembered to check the time on his phone. They still had a little over four hours before they needed to be back at school. “Yeah, sure.”

They told the others they were taking off and headed to the movie theater at the back of the mall. When Maia pulled out her wallet at the ticket counter, Simon stopped her.

“It’s okay. My treat.”

She had no idea how much she was helping Simon by hanging out with him today. The least he could do was pay for a movie and some snacks.

The movie was fun and action-packed, the kind of popcorn flick you could get into without thinking too deeply. Of course, half of the science fell apart as soon as you spent half a second remembering how physics actually worked, and the other half was just plain made up gobbledygook.

Simon was still laughing by the time they walked out of the theater.

“Man, Raphael would have a field day with this one.” He held the door for Maia. “I guarantee he would have spent an hour just taking apart the physics of actually getting a car into the stratosphere and back to the ground without breaking anything.”

Maia smiled. “Yeah, that was pretty …” She shrugged and giggled. “You know what? I don’t even care. I loved every moment of it. It was awesome.”

Simon laughed. “Right? I always tell him he takes stuff too seriously. You just gotta go with it. I think he just likes being a grumpy person. Honestly, I have no idea how he and Magnus became friends. It’s probably because Raphael’s insanely hot. He’s got that movie mob boss vibe, like in ten years he’ll be head of the family and then run for your lives everybody. If he gives you the eyebrow, you’ll sleep with the fishes before the day is done.” 

Maia chuckled. “That’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Simon snickered. “I totally thought he was going to beat up Alec before Cat did. Scared me shitless. Thank God, he didn’t. I don’t know what I would have done.”

He stopped walking when he noticed that Maia was no longer beside him.

“Hey, Simon,” she said with an odd look on her face. “Did I get the wrong idea when you asked me to see a movie?”

“Huh?”

Simon blinked. He had no clue what she was talking about.

Maia cleared her throat. “See, I thought we were on a date, but you haven’t stopped talking about Raphael since we got out of the movie theater, so, I feel like I missed something.”

Simon felt like a complete and total idiot. It had never occurred to him that Maia might think they were on a date. He’d never even asked anyone on a date before. He’d only been secretly in love with Clary, and then Maureen had sprung her thing on him, and then the disaster with Raphael last night. His stomach dropped.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I never thought you’d see me that way. I just had a crap night, and I really needed to get out of my head today, and you are so cool and fun to be around when you’re not threatening me, so I just wanted to do something nice. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s cool.” Maia looked disappointed, but then she sucked in a breath and smiled. She cocked her head. “So, how long have you been crushing on that Raphael guy?”

Simon hung his head. “Is it that obvious?”

Maia snickered and crinkled her brows with a compassionate frown. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Simon threw his hands up in frustration. “I didn’t even know until last night.”

Maia laughed. “Seriously?”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned. “It was so bad.”

“Aww.” Maia wrapped her arm around his shoulders and patted him gently. “Tell Auntie Maia all about it.”

“I kissed him, and he made a face.”

“Ouch.”

Maia turned out to be an excellent listener in all aspects. Simon wasn’t sure Clary could have done a better job if she wasn’t currently off in la-la-land with Jace. By the time their group headed back to the academy, he felt marginally better about the whole crappy situation. He even had a semi-solid plan what to say to Raphael, thanks to Maia.

Simon didn’t realize he had forgotten to turn his phone back on after the movie until he emptied his pockets onto his nightstand.

He had a couple missed calls from his mom and several text messages. He called his mom back first. She answered on the first ring.

“Monkey! Where have you been?”

Her voice sounded strange, like she had been worried he wouldn’t call her back.

“Hey, mom. Sorry I missed your calls. I had my phone turned off.”

She breathed a loud sigh of relief, which had the adverse effect of putting Simon on edge. They hadn’t talked in a couple of weeks, but this was excessive, even for his mom.

“Mom, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no, monkey. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I was just concerned because I hadn’t heard from you.”

Simon could feel the funny little flutter in his stomach that was sometimes just pointless paranoia but other times turned out to be totally legitimate, like when Maia and Gretel had shoved him into the supply closet.

“Are you sure?”

“Please, don’t worry. You know how you get.”

Only his mom could blend sympathy and being patronizing in a way that made Simon feel simultaneously deeply loved and totally infuriated. Well, his mom and now Raphael.

“Mo-om,” he grumbled. 

She cleared her throat. “Anyway. Happy Birthday!”

Simon buried his face in his palm. With everything that had been going on, he had totally forgotten his own birthday.

“Thanks.”

“Did you and Clary do something fun together? How is she?”

Simon couldn’t suppress the scoffing noise in his throat. “She’s fine, I guess.”

His mother dove in like a hawk. “Did something happen? Are you guys okay? Do you still like it there? You know you can come home at any time. Just say the word, and I’ll—"

“Mom, it’s fine. We’re fine. I’m fine.” They were seriously wearing out the word ‘fine’ in this conversation. “Clary’s just totally caught up with her new boyfriend, but that’s okay. I’ve been hanging out with Magnus, and Cat, and …”

He didn’t want to talk about Raphael with his mom. It would just end with him spiraling.

Elaine Lewis had an unfair extra sense that let her know whenever her kids had done something wrong and exactly what to say to make them feel crushing guilt. That was why Simon had been conspiring with his big sister, Becca, to keep secrets from their mother for as long as he could remember.

“Maia,” he said instead. “That’s why my phone was off. I took Maia to the movies.”

“Oh,” his mom drawled in a tone that made all of Simon’s warning sensors go off. “That sounds nice. Do you like her? Does she like you? Are you thinking about bringing her home for dinner some time? Is she Jewish by any chance?”

“Mom!”

His mom kept him on the phone until ten minutes before curfew. Simon had just enough time to rush to the bathroom and brush his teeth. When he got back, he stripped down to his boxers, crashed on top of his bed, and checked his text messages.

There were two from his mom, one from Cat, one from Clary, and one from Raphael. He glanced over the ones from his mom and Clary – both wishing him a happy birthday – before he opened the one from Cat.

**Missed u at lunch. Need backup w Magnus. **

Simon rolled his eyes. He was not about to get in the middle between Magnus and Cat. Clearly, they hadn’t listened when Simon had told them he wasn’t good at dealing with conflict. He texted back with an apology and told her he’d see her at breakfast.

With only Raphael’s message left to look at, Simon’s stomach tied itself in knots. He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled a long breath, trying to brace himself for the worst.

**I’m sorry about last night. Can we please still be friends? **

Simon blinked and read over the message again. When he read over it a third time, it still hadn’t changed. Raphael had sent him a text message with pretty much the exact same words that Simon had been planning to say to him when they saw each other for breakfast the next morning.

Simon hiccuped a laugh and muttered to himself, “The hell are you sorry for?”

He started to type the words into his phone when he realized that would be the dumbest thing he could do. You didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and this was a stable full of gift horses.

**Yes. Totally. Absolutely. C u at breakfast? **

Simon’s heart thumped in his chest as he stared at his phone screen and waited to see if Raphael would read his message and respond.

**I’ll be there. 7:00 am. **

Breakfast the next morning was next level awkward. Simon had fully expected it to be a little weird, but this was worse than his drunk Aunt Maude proselytizing during Passover Seder.

It had started because Cat and Magnus had chosen to sit at opposite ends of the table with their arms crossed, glaring at each other. Simon had purposely picked a seat right in the middle between them. Then Raphael had showed up, looked at the whole arrangement, and taken the middle seat across from Simon.

Now they were all avoiding eye contact, nobody was talking, and Simon’s cereal was going soggy again because his stomach was too twisted to eat.

When Simon felt a foot slide up against the inside of his sneaker, he all but jumped out of his chair. He pulled back from the table and forced himself to stop his knee from bouncing. He did not look up at Raphael.

Had cereal always been the color of soggy cardboard? That was probably why it tasted like that when it stayed in milk for too long.

A plate made a loud scraping noise as it slid across the table toward him. There was most of a muffin and a granola bar on it.

“Stop getting cereal,” Raphael grumbled.

Simon dragged his gaze up until it was almost level with Raphael’s chin. He grabbed the granola bar and shoved the plate back across the table.

“Stop giving away all your food,” he snarled back.

Nobody said anything else, and Simon bolted out of the mess hall before he’d even finished the granola bar.

He groaned in relief when he saw Maia and Gretel by the lockers near the history classroom.

“Hey,” he called out as soon as he got within earshot. “Do you have a minute? I think I screwed up ... the thing.”

Gretel’s back stiffened and she immediately started to glare at Simon. Maia put a hand on her arm and shook her head.

“Not a school thing,” she said to Gretel before she turned back to Simon with a sympathetic frown. “Already? How?”

“Just … Argh!”

He pulled Maia aside because he did not need Gretel to hear any of this. Her opinion of him did not need to get any lower.

“I was being me, and he was being him, and—"

“Can you put meaningful words to this?” Maia’s brows crinkled as she stared at him.

“I was jittering, and he tried to put his foot around my ankle to stop it, and I freaked out, and then he still offered me his food, which he’s not supposed to do because he constantly forgets to eat, so I snapped at him, and now he’s probably mad at me, and I just don’t know how to act around him anymore.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? What do you mean, ‘hm’?” Simon shook his head and flapped his hands. “That’s not even a word. You’re supposed to be sage Auntie Maia with the good advice. Advise me.”

Maia chuckled, furrowed her brows, and muttered something that sounded a lot like “Goober” under her breath.

“Does he do that kind of stuff a lot?” she asked.

“The food thing?” Simon shrugged. “Yeah. All the time, which is frustrating as hell. He lets Cat and Magnus practically steal everything from his plate and—”

“I meant stuff like hooking his foot around your ankle.”

Simon snapped his mouth shut. He did not want to explain that one. If he explained that one, he would inevitably have to tell Maia about his issues and he’d really rather not. He preferred people not knowing that he was a wreck six out of every seven weekdays.

“Sometimes?” he said vaguely. “Not a lot. I think it just annoys him when I shake the table with my knee.”

“Hm.”

“Stop saying ‘hm’.” Simon glared. “That’s not very meaningful.”

“I’m just wondering,” she said. “Are you sure he doesn’t like you back?”

Simon flinched, shook his head, and glared harder. “He made a face, Maia. I’m pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen when you kiss someone who likes you back.”

“I guess,” she said slowly. “Unless, maybe you had bad breath?” 

Simon made an exasperated noise beyond words. His breath had not smelled bad. They had both eaten BBQ chips, and Raphael hadn’t turned away before the kiss; he’d made a face after.

“Did you?” Maia grimaced.

“No.” Simon shook his head.

“Hm,” said Maia again.

The bell rang and they had to shelve the conversation, but Simon spent pretty much all of history obsessing over how to behave around Raphael going forward. He would have kept doing just that, but his next class was Comp Lit.

Cat was sitting at their shared desk, waiting to pounce. Their eyes made contact as soon as Simon stepped through the classroom door, and her feet were crossed at her ankles, wiggling.

Simon heaved a sigh and resigned himself to ninety minutes of torture.

“Why didn’t you say anything at breakfast?” she hissed as he slid into his seat next to her.

“What was I supposed to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe: Magnus, stop being stupid. Lightwood’s just using you, and if you keep giving in to him, he’s just going to break your big beautiful heart into a million little pieces, and then I’m gonna have to break his face for real.”

Simon huffed a laugh. “Does any of that sound even remotely like something I’d say?”

Cat snarled through her teeth. “Not the point. The point is he won’t hear it from me, but he needs to hear it from someone, so maybe coming from you it’ll surprise him enough to actually make him listen.”

Simon writhed under her glare. He got where Cat was coming from, but he just didn’t see himself getting in the middle of it. His gaze dropped to the desk and he started to fiddle with one of his pencils just to give his hands something better to do than twitch.

“You know I’m no good with conflict,” he said softly.

“I know,” she said quietly, “but I need your help, Si. Magnus needs us. If we don’t do something, he’s going to get hurt so bad. Please?”

The pencil snapped between his fingers. Simon put it aside and grabbed another one.

“I’ll try to talk to him,” he mumbled.

“Thank you so much. You’re the best!”

Cat’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and she planted a big kiss on his cheek. Then she spent the next thirty seconds wiping her lipstick off his face until the teacher showed up.

Today was definitely one of the six out of seven.


	13. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing this chapter, I had a clear idea of what I wanted it to be. Now, I'm not so sure. I might come back at a later date and change what happens toward the end of the chapter and how it happens. For now, it stays. Let me know what you think. 
> 
> Thank you so much as always for the continued interest and feedback. It makes me happier than a thing in a place that makes the thing happy. (pick your own analogy).
> 
> ETA: The first therapy session is now a little longer than it was before. My gratitude will forever go out to the kind soul who has been willing to take time out of her busy as hell professional schedule to answer my incessant questions and help me improve on that aspect of Alec's story.
> 
> ###### 

Alec jogged up the stairs into the infirmary. He squared his shoulders and stepped up to the reception desk with a polite smile.

The woman behind the counter raised her penciled brows at him.

“Mr. Lightwood?”

She looked like she wanted to say more but was keeping her tongue in check. Alec suspected it had something to do with the fact that he was here while his sister wasn’t in one of the patient rooms.

“I have an appointment,” he said, keeping his tone placid, “with Dr. Scott.”

The penciled brows climbed even higher into her white-gray bangs. Her fingers flew over the keyboard and she made a small noise in her throat.

“Second floor,” she said. “Room 216.”

“Thank you.”

It felt as if Alec was walking through fire the whole way to the elevators. Part of him still couldn’t believe he had agreed to this. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing it. How would Magnus even know if he didn’t?

He saw a flash of eyes as cold as frozen earth and Magnus rising above him like a magical, mythical creature, compelling absolute obedience.

Magnus would find out.

Alec took deep breaths as the elevator rose to the second floor. He barely glanced at the large sign that pointed him down the right side of the hallway. Instead, he counted the numbers on the rectangular plates next to the nondescript gray doors.

When he reached 216, he knocked. His knuckles had healed. It had taken more effort than it should have to keep them that way.

“Come in.”

The man’s voice was chipper and drawling. It made Alec’s skin crawl. He put his polite smile back on his face and entered the room.

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. There was a large built-in bookcase on the right, a bank of polarized windows straight ahead, and a gray fabric sofa facing two cream colored leather armchairs across a low coffee table.

“Over here, Mr. Lightwood.”

Alec looked to the left.

The doctor was sitting behind an enormous wooden desk in front of a second built-in bookcase. It was hard to tell how old he was. His pale, angular face was smooth, almost too smooth, and his blond hair highlighted with lighter and darker strands definitely wasn’t natural.

“Hello,” he said in the same chipper drawl. His accent reminded Alec of Sherlock Holmes. “I’m Dr. Scott. You may call me Woolsey if you can do so with a straight face.”

Alec’s brows furrowed. He smoothed them back into a neutral expression.

“Call me Alec.”

Hearing people say “Mr. Lightwood” made him want to look over his shoulder to check if his father had unexpectedly showed up.

“Thank you, Alec.” Dr. Scott leaned back in his chair and made a grand sweeping gesture with one elegant hand. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

There were two visitor chairs in front of the desk, and then there was the seating arrangement. Alec knew it wasn’t a test. He’d been told. Whatever he chose, it didn’t mean much. He just didn’t know how close he wanted to get to the man.

“I promise not to infer an Oedipus complex if you choose the couch.”

His eyes flew back to Dr. Scott’s face. The corners of the man’s bright green eyes crinkled with an impish smile.

“Or I could sit on the couch,” he said drolly, “flip the script if you will.”

Alec gritted his teeth. He wanted to make a caustic remark about how outdated the doctor’s psychology degree was, but that would be impolite.

“I’m fine.”

He deliberately chose the couch, proving that he was perfectly at ease. Jace would probably have put his feet up on the coffee table. Alec contemplated it, but he could never be that brazen.

Dr. Scott rose from his chair and removed an antiquated black tape recorder from a drawer in his desk. The man strolled over to the seating arrangement, sank into one of the creamy armchairs, and crossed one long, slender leg over the other with a little sigh.

His outfit was strange. A vibrant-green silk shirt peeked out from a long, slim-fitted black jacket with a mandarin collar. He had paired it with matching black slacks that flowed down his legs to the pointed tips of his shiny black shoes.

Alec folded his hands in his lap and tried to appear relaxed, but the seat of the couch was so wide he was forced to either slouch or sit ramrod straight without back support. He shifted and leaned one elbow on the armrest.

_This was such a bad idea. _

Dr. Scott placed the tape recorder in the middle of the coffee table between them and leaned back in his seat.

“I read in your file that you previously saw a Dr. Monteverde and he prescribed you Paxil, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Are you still taking the medication?”

“Yes.”

“Any side-effects?”

“No.”

Dr. Scott raised a slim blond brow and smiled.

Alec met the man’s gaze head on and resisted the urge to lick his dry lips.

Dr. Scott sighed. “I am a licensed psychiatrist as well, so if you would like to transfer your case, we can revisit the issue of medication.”

“Thank you.”

Alec kept his answers deliberately short. He didn’t want to give the man anything to sink his teeth into.

Dr. Scott wiggled his fingers toward the tape recorder between them. It reminded Alec of Magnus. The man’s nails were manicured, too, but he wasn’t wearing nail polish.

“I prefer to record sessions,” he said. “Things tend to get lost when I try to keep up with notes, and I sometimes can’t read my own handwriting later.”

Alec shrugged. One way or the other, he was stuck here for the next hour.

“Sure,” he said, “if that thing still works.”

“Oh, it works just fine. I only fear the day they no longer sell the tapes and I’ll be forced to replace this beloved relic.”

Dr. Scott leaned forward and pressed two buttons at the same time. The little gears in the middle of the cassette tape started to spin.

“So, why did you come to see me, Alec?” He smiled, exposing a row of perfectly aligned shiny teeth.

Alec hadn’t thought up a lie. He should have. He’d had days to prepare for this. Now, he was caught with his proverbial pants down because he’d been too busy denying the fact that he was coming here.

“I promised I would.”

“To whom did you make that promise?”

_The guy who could order you to kiss his boots and you’d do it. _

An image flashed through his mind of Magnus standing nose to nose with Dr. Scott, pale green eyes clashing with deep brown ones.

Alec cleared his throat. “A friend.”

“And why did you make that promise?”

_Because in return he’ll tie me up and hurt me and screw me into oblivion whenever I want._

Alec wanted to say it out loud. He ached to see the look on Dr. Scott’s face when he described in excruciating detail the depraved things that Magnus Bane had done to him and would keep doing as long as Alec showed up to this farce once a week.

Instead he shrugged.

Dr. Scott narrowed his eyes and raised one hand to tap the knuckle of his forefinger against his chin.

“Why do you think they asked you to come here?”

_Because I got him to strangle me during sex until I came so hard that I passed out, and he didn’t take it well. _

Alec chose his words carefully. “I … mentioned my history with mental health issues to him.”

“Is it history?” Dr. Scott’s slim blond brow rose again. It was always the left one.

Alec narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t tried to kill myself since Alpine View.”

Dr. Scott was unfazed. He lowered his hand and draped both of his arms over the sides of the chair, regarding Alec with a pleasant but neutral expression.

“That’s good,” he said. “Have you thought about suicide since then?”

_Not in those terms._ “No.”

“It’s not uncommon to think about it.”

“I didn’t,” Alec stressed the words.

Dr. Scott shrugged. “If you do think about it, you are welcome to tell me. I will give you my card before you leave. It has my mobile number in case you feel it can’t wait until our next session.”

Alec scowled, but Dr. Scott continued to look at him as if they were just making small talk.

They lapsed into silence. Alec hoped it would remain that way until their time was up. He had sat stoically through an entire seven-course dinner with his family after Izzy’s 15th birthday party. This was peanuts in comparison.

Dr. Scott shifted in his seat.

“Alec?”

By the time Alec dragged his gaze to him, Dr. Scott had braced his chiseled jaw on one hand as if he was waiting to hear the end of a particularly long-winded lecture.

“You are free to spend your time here in silence, but that’s not going to help you.”

“I don’t need help,” Alec said reflexively.

“Oh, really? Then why are you here?”

“Because it’s the only way I can get what I want.”

“Ah.” Dr. Scott said, removing his chin from his hand. “And what is it that you want?”

_Jace to love me back. My mother to be okay with me being gay. My father to not have checked out of our family. Izzy to be sober. Max to be alive. Everyone to just go away. Oblivion._

Alec glared. “Depraved, kinky gay sex with the party prince of Alicante.”

Dr. Scott barked out a single laugh of surprise.

Alec was more shocked than Dr. Scott that he’d said it out loud. He felt his heart thump inside his chest and his palms go sweaty. How on Earth had he allowed himself to say that out loud?

“This is confidential, right?” he rushed out. “You can’t tell my parents.”

Dr. Scott unfurled his legs and leaned toward Alec with a reassuring smile.

“Everything you tell me here is confidential. I will not share it with your parents nor with anyone else, unless I believe you are a danger to yourself or others.”

Alec breathed a sigh of relief. He still couldn’t believe he had said it out loud.

“So,” Dr. Scott drawled. “Tell me about this ‘party prince’. Is he the friend who asked you to come here?”

Alec could feel the blush burning his face. Did Dr. Scott know who they were talking about? Was there still anyone who didn’t know that the party prince was Magnus Bane?

“Yes,” he admitted to the swirly mark on the coffee table in front of him.

“And in return he promised to have sex with you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Alec looked up from under his lashes with a smirk. “Agreeable?”

Dr. Scott chuckled and relaxed back into his chair with one leg crossed over the other.

“Would you like to tell me how you arrived at this agreement and what exactly it entails?”

“You want to hear the sordid details?”

“I’m not likely to be shocked by anything you tell me.”

Alec didn’t take the bait. He sketched out a rough sequence of events from the first party of the school year to the day of the disciplinary hearing when he and Magnus had reached their agreement. He omitted any unpleasant details of their sexual encounters and Izzy’s drug use. 

Dr. Scott listened with a keen expression.

When Alec was finished, the quiet stretched for a moment.

Then Dr. Scott moved his hand from his jaw and laced his fingers in his lap.

“This arrangement you two have, are you happy with it?”

Alec blinked. He’d never thought about what he and Magnus did in terms of happiness. Happy wasn’t a term that saw a lot of use in the Lightwood family vocabulary.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly before the silence could stretch too long.

Dr. Scott’s brows furrowed and he hummed in his throat.

“Is there anything you would change about it?”

Alec’s stomach clenched. If he could, he’d nix the therapy part of the arrangement and just get on with the kinky part.

Of course, that wasn’t something he would tell Dr. Scott. He was pretty sure therapists didn’t continue to work with people who flat out told them they didn’t care about therapy.

He was one hundred percent sure that Magnus would nix their deal in a heartbeat if he stopped going to therapy. There were plenty of other opportunities for the party prince to get laid.

“I don’t know?”

“Think about it. We can talk about it next time.” Dr. Scott sat up and turned off the recorder. “Thank you, Alec.”

Alec shook himself out of a trance. He hadn’t talked this much in a long time. Even in group therapy at Alpine View, he had kept it short, sweet, and simple; anything to stay under the radar.

This felt different. Maybe it was because it was just him. No one else was around to listen and judge. It was why he accepted Dr. Scott’s business card when he offered it between two long, manicured fingers.

“Thank you,” Alec said distractedly on his way out.

Dr. Scott smiled, his bright green eyes crinkling at the corners.

“See you next week.”

Alec raised his hand in goodbye and closed the door behind him. When he turned around, he froze.

Simon Lewis was standing in front of him, leaning awkwardly against the opposite wall of the corridor. His eyes widened behind his dorky glasses and he flapped his mouth like a fish.

Alec pulled himself to his full height and glared at him.

“Not one word,” he threatened.

Simon shook his head quickly and waved his hands. One of them was shaking an orange prescription container.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he rambled. “Promise. Nobody needs to know, okay?”

Alec looked at the prescription bottle, wondering what kind of pills they were. Probably something for attention deficit disorder. He snorted.

“Works for me.”

Then he turned and stalked down the corridor to the elevators without looking back.

Twenty minutes later, Alec sat at the dinner table like the devil at Sunday mass. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be in Magnus Bane’s room, doing things that would make a whore blush.

Izzy’s hand on his arm nearly made him jump out of his skin.

“Did you take them?” she asked quietly, referring to his anti-depressants.

Alec wanted to scream at her. He could feel it burn a trail up inside him until it almost reached his lips, but he swallowed it down.

“Of course,” he said just as quietly.

He wished Jace was there to be a buffer between them. Jace would know what to say. He would know how to tell Izzy to back off without making her turn around and swallow, or snort, or smoke, or inject whatever drug she was doing this week to punish Alec.

Alec’s eyes inevitably moved three tables over. Jace was sitting next to Clary Fray, their heads so close together they almost touched, smiling at each other. Jace’s smile looked as tacky as the gaudy winged heart tattoo someone had scrawled on his forearm with gel pens.

Alec wanted to punch his fist through the table in front of him. If he hadn’t broken everything between them. If someone hadn’t spiked his drink. If he hadn’t had any alcohol in the first place. If only he hadn’t gone to Izzy’s 15th birthday party.

His eyes snapped over to another table, where Magnus was sitting with his back turned to Alec. Bright green highlights shot through his jet-black hair and Alec knew without having to see it that Magnus was wearing matching dramatic eye-shadow. 

He couldn’t text Magnus until they were both out of the mess hall. The last time Alec had been too careless, Catarina Loss had caught wind of it and caused a scene.

“Alec?” Izzy’s voice was small.

It sounded exactly like the first time he had caught her drinking. She’d been twelve and he’d been fourteen, and their parents had fought in the kitchen. It was the same night they had found out their baby brother was sick and a couple of weeks after Alec had realized he was in love with Jace.

“What, Izzy?”

“Do you still love me?”

She might as well have punched her fist through his chest, grabbed his heart, and ripped it out.

Alec made himself look at her and forced his voice to sound calm and quiet.

“Of course, I do. How can you even ask me that?”

She put her hand on his arm and held on tight. There was a sad wet look in her big dark eyes. She pressed her lips together, smearing her bright red lipstick outside the lines.

“Then promise you won’t leave me.”

Something cold and heavy dropped into Alec’s stomach. He wanted to pry her hand off his arm and hold it up to her face, make her look at the damn needle tracks in the crook of her elbow, and scream at her about who was leaving whom. He didn’t.

He put his game face on and gently placed his hand over hers.

“Promise me you’ll stop taking drugs?”

Izzy’s hand slipped out from under his and she bolted.

Alec couldn’t wait any longer. He got up from the table and pulled out his phone.

**Saw Dr. S today. When can I c u? **

He sent the message to Magnus and headed out of the dining hall. There was no response for the ten minutes it took to get from the Lightwood Building to Penhallow Hall. Alec considered sending another message when his phone finally buzzed with a reply.

**Wait in my room. B there in 15.**

Alec smirked and sped up his steps. Another message buzzed in his pocket.

**Make it 20. **

Alec’s eyes narrowed. The longer it took, the closer they were getting to curfew. Not that such a thing mattered to Magnus Bane. He typed out a reply on his way up the stairs.

**C u there.**

The door was unlocked. Alec let himself in and took a look around. The room was in shambles again. His stomach dropped at the sight of the closet.

Having to destroy all the work he had accomplished had physically hurt. He hadn’t just put away Magnus’s clothes, he had managed to come up with the perfect system to keep everything organized. Maybe someday he could convince Magnus to give him permission to do it again.

_Maybe after a really good blowjob_.

Alec felt heat creep up his face at the thought. All his thoughts about Magnus circled around to sex and pain. It was why he was here. It was why he had agreed to see the shrink. It was why he was taking the risk of having a not-so-secret thing with the guy whose father owned the whole damn school.

Alec took off his jacket and tie and folded them neatly before he placed them on the chaise lounge. He hadn’t taken the time to shower or change out of his uniform between therapy and dinner. He cautiously sniffed under his shirt. It wasn’t bad. With any luck, he would sweat a lot more before he sneaked back to his own room later tonight.

He sat down on the bed and dropped onto his back. The silk sheets were blue this week. They smelled like sage and Magnus. Alec closed his eyes.

He wondered what Magnus would want to do to him tonight.

Alec opened his eyes and tilted his head back until he could see the headboard. It had a thick black leather panel surrounded by a grid of thin metal bars. You could easily attach a couple of belts to those, or their school ties, or even handcuffs.

He could feel himself getting hard just staring at that headboard and imagining all the ways Magnus could tie him up and hurt him.

“I’d offer a penny for your thoughts,” Magnus purred from the doorway, “but I’m pretty sure I can guess.”

Alec pulled himself upright and slid his knees apart, making room for Magnus to step between them. Magnus followed the invitation and slipped his fingers into Alec’s hair. 

“Hi,” he purred.

“Hi,” Alec echoed.

He leaned into the touch, waiting for the fingers to tighten and pull. Instead, soft lips sticky with gloss brushed across his mouth. Alec slipped his tongue out and tried to coax Magnus into deepening the kiss. He practically offered up his bottom lip for a bite.

Magnus ignored the invitation.

Alec scoffed and pulled back. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

Magnus tilted his head and looked at Alec with the intense focus that made Alec want to hide.

“Why do you think there’s a problem?”

Alec’s hackles rose at the tone. It had come a little too close to that arrogant lilt in Dr. Scott’s voice. He did not need to take that crap from Magnus.

“Don’t,” he said, curling his fist around the shiny black silk shirt Magnus had changed into for dinner. “I’m going to the shrink like we agreed. Don’t go back on your promise now.”

Magnus arched an imperious eyebrow, making things worse.

“What did I promise?”

Alec clenched his teeth. There was no way Magnus didn’t know. Why did he have to spell it out?

A scorching finger slid gently under his chin and tilted his face up. Alec purposely kept his gaze low, staring at the silver buckle on Magnus’s belt.

“Tell me, Alexander.”

Alec licked his lips and made himself look up.

The bastard knew exactly what he was asking and he was enjoying himself. Alec recognized the wicked gleam in those deep-brown eyes. He could practically taste the sour candy behind that sticky sweet smile. Magnus was doing this on purpose to torture him.

Alec glared. “I go to therapy. You give me all the depraved, kinky sex my nasty heart desires. That was the promise.”

Magnus’s smile didn’t change. He brushed his thumb over Alec’s chin; the pad barely grazed along the edge of Alec’s bottom lip.

“Define depraved and kinky.”

Alec huffed out a laugh. Of course, Magnus would demand more than a general description. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and tried to figure out what would make Magnus shut up and put out.

“Tie me up. Hurt me. Mess me up ‘til I can’t think straight. Beat me, burn me, do whatever the hell you want with me.” _Just make me forget._ “Anything you want.”

Magnus shivered. Alec felt the firm stomach tremble against his fist, felt the knees between his legs buckle before they locked. Couldn’t tear his gaze from the gorgeous eyes that shifted to an even darker shade as cold as frozen earth.

Alec tightened his fist and pulled. Magnus swayed forward. Neither of them closed their eyes when their lips crashed together. Magnus finally sank his teeth in and buried his fingers in Alec’s hair. It was almost perfect. Except Magnus pulled away.

“Oh-hm-kay. No.”

Magnus squeezed his eyes shut. When he reopened them, he was looking down at Alec with all the authority he had displayed the night that Mr. Rey had tried to interrupt them.

“Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

Alec knew curfew was coming up. He knew they didn’t have the time or the privacy and probably nothing but their ties and belts to work with. He didn’t care. He grabbed a hold of Magnus’s hips and tried to pull him into his lap. Magnus didn’t budge.

“Alexander. No. Take your hands off me, right now.”

Alec removed his hands and held them up. Magnus smiled and slipped his fingers back into Alec’s hair.

“Thank you,” he purred. Then his tone shifted to something more serious. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it right.”

Alec’s brows furrowed. He wasn’t sure what Magnus meant. They’d been doing pretty well so far. Had he missed something?

Magnus tightened his grip, calling Alec’s attention back to him.

“You and I are going to see a professional on Saturday.” Alec opened his mouth to say something, but Magnus stayed him with a glare. “We need to, because, so far, I’m making this up as I go, and that’s not good enough. Got it?”

Alec nodded reluctantly.

When Magnus had said “see a professional” Alec had been about to protest he was already doing that. What more did Magnus need? Then the explanation had left him speechless and incredibly turned on. If Magnus had so far been making it up on the fly, how much better would it be once they got a few tips from a professional?

Magnus smiled. “Good.” He took a step back. Then another. And another. “Now get out of here, so I can jerk off like a fiend before that annoying ‘90s ponytail shows up for bed check.”

Alec gaped. “You’re not serious.”

Magnus glared at him and opened the door. “Deadly.”

Alec sucked in a breath, vaulted off the bed, and stormed past him out the door. He’d made it about halfway down the corridor when Magnus called his name. Alec whipped around.

“What?”

His answer was a tightly knotted wad of silk to the chest. Alec caught it before it could drop to the floor.

Magnus was hanging out of his door, shirtless and smiling.

“To help tide you over,” he drawled. “I’ll keep your jacket.”

“Bastard!”

Alec stormed into his room and locked the door behind him. He unknotted the wad of silk. It was Magnus’s shiny black shirt tightly twisted around Alec’s school tie. That explained how he’d managed to make it solid enough to fly halfway down the corridor.

“Bastard,” Alec said again.

He still stuck his face into the shirt and inhaled until he couldn’t suck any more air into his lungs. Alec knew he shouldn’t. He knew Magnus would use it against him. He jerked off anyway with the scent of Magnus pressed tightly over his nose and mouth.

Saturday took forever to arrive. Alec did his best to be stoic and patient and not take it out on every living person that crossed his path in the meantime.

It didn’t help that Izzy disappeared on him sometime late Friday afternoon. By the time she texted him that she was staying with a friend for the weekend, Alec had been ready to call the police and tear apart every building on the estate to find her.

When Alec showed up at the gate a few minutes before 10:00 am on Saturday morning, Magnus was already there. A black luxury sedan was waiting for them. The driver confirmed the address with Magnus, a place somewhere downtown that Alec was not familiar with.

They drove a good thirty minutes before their rideshare dropped them off in a distinctly working-class part of town. The building in front of them was a three-story brutalist block with tinted windows and grimy safety-glass doors. One of the doors and the window next to it had the words “Pleasure Island” printed in bold red letters across the glass.

Magnus was taking him to a sex shop. Alec groaned. His stomach twisted as he glanced in both directions, checking for prying eyes. The sidewalk was reassuringly empty.

“What the hell are we doing here?”

“I told you we’d see a professional.”

Magnus was unflappable. He grabbed Alec’s hand and dragged him through the door.

The bell jingled like they were entering any old Mom and Pop. Alec kept his gaze glued to the black carpet under his feet. It was surprisingly clean for a sex shop.

Magnus squeezed his fingers and said, “Is Daddy here yet?”

Alec’s head whipped up. Magnus was taking him to see a ‘daddy’?

He had read enough fanfiction – not to mention the stuff he’d caught while Izzy was binging Euphoria – to know all about that particular kink, and it was not happening. He dug his heels in.

Of course, Magnus had no idea because he had stopped to wait for an answer from the guy behind the register.

The guy had a serious collection of tattoos from his neck down, multiple piercings, and a set of gauges in his ears large enough to shove a sharpie through the holes.

“Upstairs,” the guy said, nodding toward someplace behind Alec, “getting ready for a private class.”

“Thanks, Elliot.”

Magnus tugged on Alec’s hand, but Alec didn’t budge. He pulled free from Magnus’s grip.

Magnus turned to him with raised brows. “What’s wrong?”

Alec glared. “I’m not going up there to get ‘taught a lesson’ by some forty-year old guy with a pedo-boner.”

Magnus laughed. His whole face lit up and his eyes crinkled at the corners. He was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath.

“I’m not joking,” Alec snapped.

“I know,” Magnus wheezed, trying to get himself under control. He shook his head and managed to ask, “Euphoria?”

Alec clenched his teeth and nodded stiffly.

Magnus was still snickering, but he took Alec’s hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I promise that’s not what’s going to happen up there.” He sobered up and his eyes locked onto Alec’s. “Trust me?”

It was a loaded question. Alec had already gone out on a very long and fragile limb with this. Magnus knew things about him that he hadn’t shared with anyone else. He still didn’t know everything. Given enough time, Alec was afraid that might change.

He was more afraid of what would happen if he answered with a no right now.

He nodded stiffly again.

Magnus smiled and pulled him along up a set of cement slab stairs against the side wall of the shop.

The second floor was a cavernous space filled with more BDSM paraphernalia than Alec would expect to find on a porn set. There was also a square area covered with rubber gym mats like the ones Alec remembered from judo class when he was little.

“Magnus!” A clear voice called out from the back of the room.

“Daddy!”

Daddy was a five-foot, ninety pounds East-Asian chick in her twenties with snakebite piercings and gothic eye makeup. She was wrapped head to toe in white silk and leather, and had donned a funky fedora over her jet-black braid.

“Give us a hug.”

Magnus let go of Alec and wrapped her in a tight hug, easily lifting her small frame several inches off the floor. She squealed into Magnus’s neck.

Alec felt an irritating pinch in his gut.

“You’re kidding, right?” he said dead-pan.

Daddy pulled herself out of Magnus’s arms and stepped back, sliding her gaze over Alec as if she was appraising a potential outfit on a mannequin.

Alec squared his shoulders and glared down his nose at her.

A smile stretched her pink lips, pulling the metal rings around the corners of her bottom lip further apart.

“Arrogant,” she purred. “The best ones always are.”

Alec narrowed his eyes. “I’m not—”

“Don’t lie.”

Her tone was abruptly sharp. It reminded him of the way Magnus had told Mr. Rey to go away.

Alec resisted the urge to avert his eyes from her penetrating stare.

“You have to admit,” he said calmly. “You’re not even close to what people think of when they hear the word ‘Daddy’.”

She laughed. It was a sound like ringing church bells dropping six floors onto concrete.

“That’s because people are addicted to clichés. Especially when they’ve only kind of heard about something from someone who heard it from someone else.” She raised her sharply angled brows and rolled her wrist in a dismissive gesture that ended up pointing at Alec. “Or maybe read about it on the internet.”

Alec fought the heat trying to climb up from his neck. This woman was not going to make him blush. He took a deep breath and retreated behind his game face. To his surprise, Magnus reacted immediately.

“Shit, Alec—”

“No, let him.”

Daddy was still staring at him, but now her gaze was focused on his face. Alec stared right back at her and concentrated on the wall inside him. No one could touch him as long as he stayed behind it. He was in control.

“Yeah,” Daddy drawled. “That’s what you meant on the phone, isn’t it?” She tilted her head toward Magnus and purred, “I bet he looks damn fine with JFK hair.”

“He doesn’t.”

Alec slid his gaze over to Magnus. He looked pissed.

_Sucks to be you._

Daddy sighed and stepped closer, forcing Alec to either lower his head to keep looking at her or stare straight ahead at the extensive rack of whips and floggers on the far wall. Alec reluctantly bowed his head.

“It’s simple,” she said. “Daddy isn’t about what’s in my pants. It’s about what’s in here.”

He didn’t flinch when she reached up and grazed blunt fingernails across his temple. She had to stretch her arm all the way, but she made it look sinuous and effortless.

“The tiny part of you that is just so tired of always having to think, and plan, and be on top of everything.” Her voice sank into a liquid purr. “Building all these walls just to keep people out.”

Alec’s heart thumped once. He reminded himself that walls were a universal metaphor. He glared through his lashes, determined not to let her affect him.

Her cool fingertips traced a path along the line of his jaw. She smelled like worn leather and sage.

“The hidden corner where you wish you could just give in, just for a little while. Let someone else take over and make it all go away.”

_Oblivion._

He remembered Magnus rising above him like a mythical creature; scorching, silver-heavy fingers wrapped tightly around his throat; gorgeous frozen eyes burning into him until everything went dark.

“And it doesn’t matter if that person is Sir or Madam, Master or Mistress.”

_Magnus._

“Titles are incidental. Mine is Daddy. Now, walk over to those mats and kneel.”

Alec’s eyes snapped open. He stood up straight and forced his breathing to stay calm and even.

How the hell had she gotten him to close his eyes and lean that far? No way was he going to kneel on those mats.

He raised his head and stared straight ahead at the wall of whips and floggers.

No way. What was she going to do if he refused? Grab one of those toys and beat him into submission?

Alec scoffed.

The nasty part of his brain piped up just long enough to point out he would probably enjoy that.

Daddy didn’t move.

“Do you want my help or not?” she asked calmly. “The class is paid for. No refunds.”

Alec’s eyes flew to Magnus.

Magnus was watching him with a strange expression on his face. His eyes had softened, but there was the hint of a scowl tugging at the corners of his glossy lips.

“It’s your choice, Alexander.”

It was obvious his only choice was to play along, or he could kiss any future kinky sex with Magnus goodbye vanilla-style.

Alec kept his face smooth and strode past Daddy toward the gym mats. His eyes never left Magnus as he sank onto his knees and settled into a comfortable seiza position with his back straight, his knees slightly spread, and his hands on his thighs.

Daddy hummed in approval as she slid her silk clad arm around Magnus’s waist and molded herself to his side.

“Just look at him,” she purred.

Alec clenched his stomach muscles against the pinch in his gut.


	14. Negotiations (Devil's in the Details)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Magnus's brain and the second part of their beginner lesson in BDSM. I hope you enjoy this foray into safe practices 101.
> 
> In this chapter, Magnus's demons are beginning to show their face. And I'm not just talking about Asmodeus.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for your comments and kudos. Please keep them coming. They make my day.
> 
> ###### 

Magnus looked down at Alec kneeling on the thick rubber mats with his stony mask firmly in place. He wanted to slap that lack of expression right off.

“Breathe,” Daddy murmured in his ear. “You can’t go into a session angry. That’s a short-cut to disaster.”

Magnus turned his head to look at her with furrowed brows. He rested his hand against her back and leaned close to murmur in her ear.

“How did you know?”

“I’m very good at reading people.”

Magnus felt her smile against his cheek as he glanced toward Alec. He tried to let go of his anger.

“You don’t happen to have a closet I could make him mess up, do you?” he muttered under his breath.

“No.” Daddy giggled. “But there are other ways to deal with all that.” She rolled her graceful hand around her wrist, her splayed fingers indicating Alec in general.

Magnus hoped she was right. He relaxed into the comforting arm around his hip, wrapped his arm around her tiny waist, and inhaled the spice-and-leather scent that was all Daddy.

“First things first,” she said, raising her voice to a professional tone as she divided her attention between Magnus and Alec. “This is going to be a strictly hands-off class. I could get in heaps of trouble for even talking to you about this since you’re both underage.”

“I turned 18 in September.” Alec’s voice rumbled like thunder.

Daddy raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Magnus dug his fingers into the soft side of her stomach in a surreptitious warning. He did not want anyone else to lay a hand on Alec. Not even Daddy.

She flicked her tongue over her snakebites and shot Magnus a look that made him lift his fingers away from her.

“Still.” She raised her other hand and patted Magnus on the chest. “This one’s not official until December, so we’re hands-off, and this session is going to show up as yoga class on the credit card statement.” She turned her head and wagged her brows at Alec. “I’m flexible like that.”

Magnus breathed a sigh of relief. He wished he knew how Alec felt, but the damn stony mask on his face was making it impossible to read him.

Daddy cleared her throat. “All right, let’s start with backstory and basics. I need to know where you are before I can tell you where to go, right?”

She let go of Magnus and sauntered over to a wooden torture bench. She hopped up onto the padded table, crossed her ankles, and swung her legs back and forth.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” she said with a vague hand motion.

Magnus took a look around. For a split second he considered the ornate Gothic throne by the St. Andrew’s Cross. Then his gaze shifted back to Alec who was still kneeling stiff as a rod on the gym mats, staring blankly ahead.

Magnus moved. He picked up a surprisingly heavy leg rest from the stack of padded leather pillows against the wall, dropped it behind Alec, and sat down with his knees around Alec’s rigid frame. Alec’s shoulder was rock-hard when Magnus placed his hand on it.

“Relax,” he muttered. “You don’t have to sit like that.”

Alec stayed still for another moment before he shifted. Then he pulled his legs around to sit cross-legged on the mat and leaned back against the cushion between Magnus’s legs.

The back of Alec’s head and all that glorious messy dark hair was right there. Magnus surrendered to the itch in his fingers and dove in.

Alec flinched and looked up over his shoulder, eyes wide in a glare of surprise.

Magnus forced himself to keep his hand exactly where it was. He stared Alec down with a smile.

Alec huffed, turned back around to face Daddy, and pushed his head into Magnus’s hand.

Daddy snickered.

“Great,” she said. “Now, the best way to iron out the details is with a checklist. I’ll give each of you one before you leave, but it’ll take time to fill that out and negotiate your limits, so I just want to get a rough idea right now of what you’ve already done and what you’re looking to do. Who wants to go first?”

Magnus knew Alec wouldn’t say anything, so he took a breath and opened up.

“I’ve tied people up and been tied up. Scratching, biting, some spanking. That one time with the, um…”

If he mentioned his unpleasant experience with a champagne enema during his 16th birthday party in Manhattan, Alec would probably run for the hills and never look back.

“Candles,” he said instead, glaring significantly at Daddy.

She smiled and nodded. “What about you, Alec?”

Alec shrugged. “I like pain.”

Magnus held his breath.

Daddy raised her brows. “Can you be a little more specific?”

Magnus continued to comb through Alec’s hair. He was glad when Alec didn’t pull away.

“I like being tied up, and scratched, and bitten, and pinched.”

Magnus nodded along. He wondered how Alec had figured out he was into that. He felt the sick twist of jealousy in his gut at the thought of Alec doing those things with someone else.

“Having my hair pulled,” Alec added with an audible smirk.

Magnus forced his grip to relax and started combing again.

“I like having fingers around my throat, or a shirt over my mouth, cutting off my air.”

Magnus twitched. “I’m not doing that again.”

Daddy clapped her hands together. “Looks like we found our first hard limit.”

Magnus nodded.

“Why not?” Alec asked sharply, glaring up at him.

“Hold up!”

Daddy’s shout interrupted Magnus before he could say anything. It also pulled Alec’s attention back to her.

“That’s not how we negotiate, Alec.” She braced her hands on the edges of the torture table and leaned forward. “Neither of you ever has to explain why a hard limit is a hard limit. The point is that you both know each other’s limits and respect them.”

Alec looked down as if he’d been smacked across the nose with a newspaper. He crossed his arms.

Daddy smiled, stretching her snakebites wide.

“Which brings us to Safe. Sane. And Consensual. I’m not going to make you chant it, but you will adhere to it, because that’s the only way to play, got it?”

Magnus chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m serious.” Daddy stopped swinging her legs and stared at them expectantly. “Both of you. This stuff is fun, but it can go really bad, really fast if you don’t stick to those three. I can tell you horror stories that’ll make you run crying, but you didn’t hire me to scare you, you hired me to teach you, so...”

She hopped off the table, swung around the bench, and pulled an old-fashioned green chalkboard on a rolling wooden frame from behind a fake stone wall.

“Good thing teacher/student never goes out of style.”

Magnus gaped as she literally picked up a piece of chalk and wrote the three words on the board in sweeping, loopy letters. She pointed at the first one.

“Always have a safe word or multiple words to let the top know when to slow down or stop. If you’re playing with gags, make sure you have a safe gesture. Drop a bell, snap your fingers, something like that.”

Magnus tightened his grip on Alec’s hair and pulled his head back to look him in the eyes. Alec glared at him from behind his long, beautiful lashes.

“Magnus!”

He snapped around to Daddy who was pointing the chalk at his face.

“Check-in, sporadically, to make sure whatever you’re doing is still what both of you want to do. If it doesn’t feel right, stop doing it.”

Magnus nodded. That wasn’t the problem.

“Remember, it’s not porn,” Daddy continued. “You’re not acting. There’s no script, no effects, no editing. You have to learn what you can handle and how much is too much.” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at Alec. “He might not start screaming until it’s way past that, so you’ll have to get good at reading him.”

That was the problem. Magnus remembered staring at Alec’s fingers, waiting for them to snap. He remembered the way his heart had hammered in his chest while he’d counted the seconds and Alec hadn’t done shit.

“But,” she said, pointing her chalk at Alec, “trust is a two-way street. You have to use your safe words and be honest. You can’t depend on Magnus to guess where your head’s at, especially when you’re just starting out.”

Alec’s head dropped forward. He uncrossed his arms and folded his hands over his crossed legs. He nodded.

It was a start. It would take a while for Magnus to believe he meant it. Until he was sure he could trust Alec, they simply wouldn’t get into any heavy stuff.

“Last but not least, consensual sex is sober sex. No sessions when you’re drunk or high.” Daddy glared at Magnus. “It’ll give you stupid ideas, and you will regret it. Best case scenario, there will be embarrassing pictures. Worst case scenario, you’ll end up in the hospital or dead.”

Magnus ducked his head. He knew why she was addressing that one to him. If she had been around for his 16th birthday, she would have stopped things cold before Magnus had ever dropped his pants. She had told him as much when he’d shared the story with her a few months ago.

Daddy dropped the chalk into the small tray at the bottom of the chalkboard and wiped her hands.

“Any questions?”

She patiently answered every question Magnus threw at her, and by the time he and Alec left Pleasure Island, Magnus had added several other charges to his credit card. Most of the purchases were books on safe practices and techniques, but Alec had strong-armed him into buying a set of padded leather restraints.

That was to say, Alec had picked them up with two fingers, raised his brows, and bit down on his bottom lip with a look from behind his ridiculously long eyelashes that had made Magnus want to fuck him six ways into tomorrow right there on the shop floor. 

Magnus couldn’t deny it. He had no pride or shame and very little self-control when it came to Alexander Lightwood.

When they got back to school sometime around noon, he took Alec straight up to his room and locked the door behind them. He barely had the chance to turn around before Alec was on top of him.

His back crashed against the door and Alec’s body pressed up against him, keeping him trapped. Alec’s tongue pried his lips open and thrust into his mouth with the taste of sugary coffee.

Magnus moaned and shoved his hips forward. He wanted to throw his leg up around Alec’s hip and pull him closer. He wanted to trash that unimaginative outfit, worship every part of his breathtaking body, climb on top of him, and ride Alec’s magnificent cock until he couldn’t sit down for a week.

Magnus knew if he tried, Alec would leave.

It wasn’t what Alec wanted from him. What he wanted was kink and pain on the condition that he went to therapy, and Magnus had agreed to give him that.

Magnus closed his teeth around Alec’s bottom lip, buried his fingers in Alec’s hair and pulled in opposite directions. 

Alec moaned in a way that made his cock twitch and his knees go weak. Then he shifted his hips and thrust once. Magnus’s head banged against the door.

“Oh, Jesus, Ale—mph." Magnus whined a strangled moan around Alec’s tongue, ripped his mouth free, and tried to claw together some shred of sanity. “List. List. Check. Please.”

Alec’s rumbling laugh reverberated straight through him. Magnus wanted to feel that sound every day, several times, starting before breakfast clear until he went to bed at night.

“Please,” he tried again. “Let’s do the checklist first.”

Alec raised his face from Magnus’s neck with an exasperated scowl. “Why? We can do that later.”

Magnus closed his eyes and shook his head. He tried to ignore the debilitating turn-on of Alec’s erection pressed against his own.

“No, Alexander. Now.”

“Whatever.” Alec rolled his eyes. “Just check ‘yes’ to everything.”

That pissed Magnus off enough to put a damper on his arousal. If Alec wasn’t willing to take this seriously, Magnus couldn’t trust him, and if that was the case, they weren’t going to do any damn thing at all, no matter how much it killed both of them.

Magnus sucked in a steadying breath, grabbed Alec by the shoulders, and pushed him off with enough force to put some space between them.

“Really?” he said, glaring at the stubborn scowl on Alec’s face. “Sure, why not? Let’s see.”

He fished one of the folded checklists from his back pocket and opened it up. His eyes skimmed over the long column of entries in alphabetical order, searching for the worst offenders.

“Hm. Abrasion, anal sex, anal plugs, small and large.” He raised a challenging brow.

Alec stared back at him with a mulish expression.

Magnus narrowed his eyes. He plowed ahead, forcing his voice into a saccharine drawl.

“Oh, ball stretching, doesn’t that sound nice? Or how about bestiality? Who knew you were that kinky?” His eyes skimmed a little further down the list until he found what he was looking for. “Brown showers… Really, Alec? You’re into feces play?”

Alec’s expression derailed. His eyes bugged out and he looked on the verge of being sick.

“What? No! Give me that.” He snatched the list from Magnus’s fingers.

“Thought so,” Magnus snarled in triumph and pulled out his own checklist.

They ended up sprawled across Magnus’s bed with the checklists and their phones between them. Even Magnus had to look up the occasional term. Others were rather obvious.

“Cock-worship?” Magnus inquired with bouncing brows.

Alec ducked his head and stared intently at his list.

“I’ll do it if you let me organize your closet.”

Magnus laughed so hard his belly ached. When he’d caught his breath, he looked up at Alec with all the solemnity he could muster.

“That’s a 2 for me on the closet thing. I’m willing to let you do it, but it holds no appeal for me.” 

It turned out Alec did have several hard limits and so did Magnus. Anything to do with age play, urine, or feces was right out for both of them. The same applied to anything including animals or other people.

The biggest bone of contention between them was breath play. Alec wanted all of it; Magnus was not willing to budge.

“No,” he said for the umpteenth time as another item on the list rolled around to it. “I can deal with all the other stuff we’ve gone over, but I’m not going to asphyxiate you, or control your breath, or choke you, or hood you, or mummify you, or strangle you, or fucking saran wrap you.”

Alec’s jaw clenched. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal.”

Magnus glowered. “Drop it, or I’m changing my mind on the gags to a hard no.”

He was still trying to come to grips with just how much Alec was willing to try when neither of them had any real idea what they were signing up for. He just hoped that Alec would keep his promise and be honest and use his safe word when things he thought he could handle turned out to be too much.

“Have you thought about a safe word?”

Alec looked away and shrugged. “Whatever.”

Magnus gritted his teeth. “Alexander.”

“Fine! Give me a minute.”

Magnus watched quietly as Alec leaned back on his elbows and stared at his outstretched legs crossed at the ankles.

He wanted to kiss him so badly, he could taste it. If they were a real couple, he could climb on top of Alec right now, slide forward into his lap until he reached that perfect spot where Magnus fit like he belonged, and they’d make out until someone literally pried them apart. Not that anyone would dare.

“Maryse,” said Alec.

Magnus felt his fantasy crash down on him like his favorite makeup palettes tumbling out of the bathroom cabinet.

“No.”

Alec’s brows flew up. “Excuse me?”

Magnus glowered. “The point of a safe word is to give you an out. That means it has to be something you won’t hesitate to use. There’s no way you would ever say your mother’s name while we have sex.”

Alec narrowed his eyes. “How did you know it’s my mother’s name?”

Magnus smiled. “I know everything.”

Alec shut down harder than a New York City brownout in August.

Magnus didn’t know what he’d done, but it was time to backpaddle and hope the move didn’t blow up in his face even worse.

“I eavesdropped on the meeting with Herondale,” he admitted quickly. “My father used your mother’s first name.”

Alec nodded stiffly, but Magnus noticed that his shoulders started to relax. The stone mask slipped off his face and he made an adorable grumbling noise in his throat.

“I’m not going to say something ridiculous like grapefruit or anything like that.”

Magnus snickered. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” His hand was itching to reach out and caress Alec’s leg, but he held himself back. “We could use the traffic-light system until you think of something?”

Alec tilted his head. “Red-yellow-green?”

Magnus nodded. “Stop, slow down, and good to go.”

Alec grinned. “I thought yellow meant speed up and check the rear-view mirror for cops?”

Magnus lashed out and slapped Alec’s leg with the back of his hand.

Alec snickered.

Magnus smacked him again. Harder.

“Hey!”

He did it again, landing a resounding slap with his flat palm on Alec’s thigh.

“Ow!”

Alec’s eyes went wide with a glare and he pulled away. Magnus went after him and struck him again. Alec writhed, and cursed, and tried to fend him off.

“Stop!”

Magnus didn’t. He cracked his hand across the side of Alec’s hip and glared down at him.

“Color?” he asked sharply.

“Magnus!”

Alec sucked in a breath and stared at him as if he was the incarnation of Shiva.

Magnus checked his temper and switched tactics. Alec had shoveled his own grave by agreeing to try so many things.

Magnus pounced and dug his fingers into Alec’s sides, mercilessly chasing down any possible ticklish spot between Alec’s waist and his armpits.

Alec bucked like a bronco and howled like a wolf, but Magnus had ridden wilder beasts. He was not going to be the first to budge.

“Color?” he barked over Alec’s writhing and cursing.

“G-guh-reen, huh! Ngh!”

Alec wheezed and shook his head, refusing to give in.

Magnus redoubled his efforts, tickling him harder, watching Alec’s face go from white, to pink, to red. He was getting pretty winded himself, clamping down with his thighs to stay on top of Alec. He slipped his hands under and around Alec’s arms when he was trying to protect himself and batted them away when Alec tried to fight him off.

“Color, Alexander!” 

“F-uh-RED!”

Magnus stopped immediately. He pushed his hair out of his face with both hands and looked down at Alec with a triumphant smirk.

“There, now was that so hard?”

Alec was still panting for breath. His face was bright red, the veins on his forehead popping out. His eyes glistened with tears from laughing so hard. His lips were twisted over clenched teeth in an angry wet snarl.

He was the most desirable thing Magnus had ever seen in his life.

“Fuck.”

_I love you._

“Magnus?”

Alec’s expression darkened with a suspicious frown. It looked like he was quickly coming to his senses.

Magnus couldn’t afford to get caught. He shook himself out of it and put a smile on his face. No need to dwell on things that couldn’t be changed.

“Now that you’ve learned how to use your safe word,” he drawled, “did you want to try out the new restraints?”

Alec’s expression cleared up in an instant. “Now?”

Magnus snickered and hauled himself out of bed, going for the nondescript black paper bags from Pleasure Island.

Behind him, his phone rang on the mattress, blaring the ominous opening strings of Berlioz’s Witches Sabbath.

Magnus froze.

“It’s your dad,” Alec said flatly.

Magnus took a deep breath, turned around, and grabbed his phone. He looked at Alec and pressed a finger to his lips before he answered it.

“Father.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” His father’s voice dripped with the sweetness of arsenic.

“No,” Magnus lied, turning his back to Alec. “I just got out of the shower.”

“I’m not surprised you needed one. I am surprised you have developed an interest in yoga. Though, judging by the books you purchased earlier today, it looks like that’s a euphemism for more banal exercises? Please do make sure you don’t invite any … inconveniences.”

Magnus swallowed. In Asmodeus Bane’s glossary, the term ‘inconvenience’ encompassed anything from minor venereal diseases to accidental pregnancies and heavy-handed blackmail.

“Of course,” Magnus said coldly. “Was that the reason you called?”

“No.”

Magnus’s breath stalled. He waited quietly for the other shoe to drop and squash him like a bug under his father’s Italian loafer.

“I called because I have decided on the favor you owe me.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes. He had been expecting this, but that didn’t change the fact that his heart was pounding inside his chest as if he’d just run three miles and done a few laps in the pool right after.

“And?” he pressed the word through his teeth.

“The company is hosting the annual holiday gala at Bane Towers in Manhattan. The date is December 11th. I expect you to be there.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and breathed a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t on his birthday. He’d still have to put up with Asmodeus and the high society circus, but it could have been worse.

He expected to hear the click of the call disconnecting, but it seemed Asmodeus wasn’t finished.

“You can bring your latest indiscretion if you absolutely must, but I expect you to officially invite and accompany Ms. Kaelie Whitewillow. I’ll have my assistant send you her details.”

Magnus felt bile churn inside his stomach and rise up his throat. He pressed his lips together. Naturally, his lack of response had absolutely no effect on Asmodeus.

“You will announce your plan to study business and finance and become officially part of the company, and you will certainly play coy about your personal relationship with Ms. Whitewillow. I want them to get the impression that all hope is not lost you might settle down eventually.”

Magnus took shallow breaths and focused his gaze onto the calming scene of Van Gogh’s Cherry Blossoms on the wall above his chaise. He had nothing to say and he knew his father didn’t care to hear anything from him except agreement.

“That’s all,” Asmodeus finished and hung up.

“I see.”

Magnus pretended he was still in conversation. He didn’t need Alec to know just how fucked up his relationship with his father really was.

“Just a sec,” he whispered to Alec with a raised finger and a smile that felt a little too brittle to be convincing.

Alec opened his mouth.

Magnus forced himself to widen his smile and winked. Then he disappeared through his closet into the bathroom as quickly as good decorum would allow.

The bathroom door closed behind him with a quiet click and Magnus sank down to the floor with a long exhalation. His phone clattered onto the tiles next to him.

His father had the worst timing.

Magnus wiped a hand over his face. He took a few deep breaths and tried to put the unpleasant call behind him.

He stood up, checked his reflection in the mirror above the sink, and rolled his eyes at himself. A quick snatch for some toilet paper and a few careful swipes took care of his smudged eyeliner. He freshened up his lip gloss while he was at it.

Magnus was almost back to normal when his phone started to shimmy across the tiles with the buzz of an incoming email. He didn’t need to check it to know it was his father’s assistant sending the information about the Whitewillow girl.

Magnus cursed under his breath, grabbed the phone from the floor, and swiped away the message.

Before he left the bathroom, he straightened himself up, put a brilliant smile on his face, and took a few more deep breaths.

He was going to go in there and be his best self. He had offered Alec to play with the restraints, and Magnus would not allow Asmodeus to ruin that.

When Magnus opened the door and stepped out through the closet, it was to the sight of an empty room.

Alec was gone, his checklist left behind on the bed.

Magnus felt his heart tie around his guts, twist up into his throat, and choke him.

He kicked the clothes at his feet, pounded the sole of his boot against the wall, slammed the bathroom door, and punched his fist blindly into the shoe rack. The mesh caught on his rings. Magnus tore the whole thing down with a snarl. He pried off the rings, nearly ripping off his fingers in the process.

Then he sat down in the middle of the mess and stared at nothing.

Alec didn’t care.

Cat was furious and not talking to Magnus for that exact reason.

Raphael was ‘so not the guy to ask about this stuff’.

Simon would just ramble on about famous doomed movie relationships again, like he’d done when he’d held up Magnus after dinner on Thursday.

Magnus dragged himself off the floor and shuffled over to his bedside table. There was still a bottle of sour candy vodka stashed behind the two omnibus editions of The Sandman. He pulled out Volume I and the half-empty bottle.

Magnus sat down cross-legged against the headboard, spread the massive black book over his lap, opened the bottle, and slipped into the tantalizing comfort of inebriation and dark fantasy.


	15. Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the angst and torture with Magnus .... have some more with Raphael and Simon! Okay, I'm kidding. This is not going to be so bad. :) Show of hands, who likes a bit of jealousy?
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and feedback. You know it makes my day and I love every bit of it.
> 
> ###### 

The sunshine wasn’t strong enough to soften the chill wind that blew crusty orange-brown leaves across the asphalt. As soon as they stepped out onto the cracked parking lot, Raphael stopped and stepped around Rosa’s wheelchair to pull the blanket higher around her.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “We could just stay inside and play cards.”

Rosa smiled, deepening the wrinkles around her hazy eyes. “I’m pick-and-ham. You look after me so well, angel.” She made an impatient motion with her hand. “Go on, take me out.” 

Raphael suppressed a smirk. He assumed ‘pick-and-ham’ was Rosa’s way of trying to say ‘spick and span’.

“All right.”

Rosa began to hum the melody for ‘take me out to the ballgame’ as he pushed her across the lot and onto the trail through the small park behind the building.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he commented lightly.

Rosa laughed. “You’re here, it’s falling. The crusts are filling up the fees… trees. And we’ll have pumping cake!”

Raphael chuckled. “I look forward to that.”

He didn’t really care for pumpkin pie. He wasn’t hungry. He was just glad Rosa was happy.

Simon had been avoiding him for almost a whole week. Raphael had thought they would be okay after they had texted on Sunday night, but Monday morning had proven him wrong. Nothing had improved since then.

Raphael had wanted to explain himself, more than once, but what was there to explain? The stuff that Simon wanted from him, he couldn’t give, and the stuff he could give would just make Simon want the other stuff more, and then everything would blow up around their ears anyway.

Why did Simon have to go and kiss him?

Now Raphael couldn’t even touch him anymore.

It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

It mattered every time he tried to reach for Simon and Simon pulled away.

It mattered every time Raphael sat across from him and was forced to watch Simon’s knee bounce out of control, helpless to do anything to stop it.

It mattered when he caught a glimpse of Simon down the hallway next to a pretty curly-haired girl with a complexion like sugar-sweet hot chocolate, and she casually looped her arm around Simon’s shoulders.

“Angel?”

Rosa’s scratchy voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Raphael stepped around to the front of her wheelchair and stooped to his knees.

“What is it, Rosa?”

“Are you all right?”

Her withered hands reached for him and he let her clamp her fingers around his knuckles. Her skin felt cool and brittle against his.

Raphael forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

Rosa’s face crumpled. She raised one shaky hand and placed it on his cheek. Her wrinkled features contorted with pain as she searched for something in his eyes.

“Did they hurt you again?”

Raphael exhaled a surprised laugh. “No, Rosa. I’m fine. Nobody’s hurt me. I’m fine. See?”

He patted himself down and pulled aside his coat to show her that he wasn’t hurt anywhere. He wondered what on Earth had happened to Rosa’s real brother. He wanted to ask, but he could see the pain and fear written on her face clear as day. Raphael was not going to be the reason she suffered more of it.

“I had a disagreement with a friend,” he confessed. “That’s all. It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll be fine.”

Rosa was not appeased. She gripped his hand tighter. Her fingers dug into his cheek.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“It’s not right,” she said fiercely. “It’s fail true, but it’s not right. Stop. Stop before they cart you. Promise me. Promise to God, angel.”

Raphael shook his head, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Stop what? What did ‘fail true’ even mean?

“I promise,” Raphael said slowly. “Simon and I are going to be fine.”

It had clearly been the wrong thing to say.

Rosa slapped him across the face and burst into tears.

She was inconsolable to the point that she wouldn’t let him touch her or even push her wheelchair back into the building. She made such a racket that one of the nurses rushed over and asked him what had happened.

Raphael tried to explain to the best of his ability. He could feel his patience start to slip when the nurse just rolled her eyes.

“It’s dementia,” she said blandly. “Doesn’t matter how nice you are, they’re always going to snap. Just go home and come back next week.”

Raphael watched speechless as the nurse carted Rosa away, ignoring her vocal protests.

He took a rideshare back to school instead of waiting several hours for the shuttle. It was barely 2:00 pm by the time he got back to his dorm.

Raphael contemplated going to the chapel, but he didn’t want to have another uncomfortable conversation with Father Aldertree. The father hadn’t said anything directly since he’d shared his horrifying story the previous Saturday, but Raphael still hadn’t made up his mind about joining the seminary one way or the other.

He had been too busy tormenting himself about the rift between Simon and him.

As if that wasn’t enough, there was the ongoing issue with Cat, Magnus, and Alec Lightwood.

Raphael had thought the subject had been settled after the confrontation that had ended with Alec and Cat in Headmistress Herondale’s office. He had been wrong on that, too.

Last Sunday, between his church duties and looking in vain for Simon all over the grounds, Raphael had learned the ‘bombshell news’ he had missed.

Magnus was still dating Alec Lightwood and trying to keep it a secret. Catarina had found out because of an ill-timed text message during dinner on Saturday.

On Sunday, she had given Magnus an ultimatum: her or Lightwood. Magnus had told her he didn’t negotiate with terrorists, in those exact words. They hadn’t spoken to each other since.

It made things so much worse during meal times. By Wednesday, Raphael had had to force himself to show up at all. What was the point when he didn’t feel like eating anything, and they were all keeping maximum distance between them around the table, avoiding eye contact?

Somehow it made him feel worse that Simon didn’t even try to fill the awkward silence with his compulsive babbling about games or movies or anything else that passed randomly through his mind.

Raphael just wanted things to go back to the way they had been before. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Since Lily had cut him out of her life, Simon, Magnus, and Cat were his only friends.

As ridiculous as it might sound, it was true: Raphael cared about the three of them more than anyone else in the world.

It was high time he started acting like it. He might not be capable of snarky quips like Cat or Magnus or even Simon. He might completely suck at talking about feelings and stuff. He damn sure excelled at settling conflicts. There was not a head on God’s green Earth that Raphael couldn’t knock some sense back into with a well-placed smack and one of his indisputable glares.

He decided to start with Magnus and pulled out his phone.

**Where are you?**

It took several minutes before he received a reply.

**My room. **

**Stay there. On my way.**

When he arrived, Raphael knocked on the door to Magnus’s room and didn’t wait for a response before he let himself in.

Magnus was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a massive book in his lap and a nearly empty bottle of vodka in his right hand.

“Seriously?” Raphael groused as he closed the door behind him.

He walked up to the bed and snatched the bottle from Magnus’s fingers.

“Hey!”

Raphael ignored Magnus’s slurred protests and emptied the rest of the alcohol into the bathroom sink. The artificial smell of sour candy made him want to retch. He dumped the empty glass bottle in the trashcan by the toilet.

On his way back out of the closet, he almost stumbled over something. He kicked the tangled net of shoes and jewelry out of his way.

“This place is a mess.”

He walked around the bed and sat down on one end of the giant mattress without waiting for an invitation.

Magnus looked like hell. His eyeliner was smudged. His lip gloss was gone. He reeked of alcohol.

Raphael expressed his disgust with the same noise his father used to make when their favorite soccer team was screwing up their game.

“And so are you,” he continued sharply. “What happened?”

Magnus glared at him drunkenly. “Before or after my father called?”

Raphael shrugged. “Either. Both.”

Magnus stared at him with a stubborn scowl for a long moment. Then his whole face crumpled and he fell to pieces worse than Lily after a breakup with her latest boyfriend.

He tumbled forward into Raphael’s lap, latched his skinny arms around Raphael’s back, and stifled a scream of raw frustration against Raphael’s side. It tickled like crazy.

Raphael sat on the bed with his arms spread wide and his brain struggling to come up with words.

Magnus filled the silence with a barely decipherable story that involved Alec Lightwood, two different fathers, some sort of checklist, a Christmas party from hell, and something about an arranged marriage with a tree.

Raphael was pretty sure he didn’t understand half of it correctly, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he gently patted Magnus on the back.

While he looked around the room, waiting for Magnus to pull himself together, Raphael’s eyes landed on a couple of papers on top of the comforter. They looked like practice tests. He was surprised Magnus even bothered with those.

Raphael turned one around to check it out and nearly choked on his own spit when he read the first few words down the column on the left. His eyes flew over the rest of the list.

“What the hell, Magnus?”

Magnus sat up and snatched the paper out of his hand.

“I told you,” he said, wiping his nose with one arm while he crumpled the list in his opposite hand. “It’s a checklist.” Magnus glanced at it. “Alec’s checklist.”

Raphael gaped. There had been barely anything on that list marked with a ‘no’ in the ‘Willingness’ column. Most things were marked with a 5 on a scale from “0 - Utterly no desire” to “5 – Is a wild turn-on”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “That emo kid is seriously messed up.”

“I know,” Magnus said with a desolate look at the paper in his fist.

“What are you getting yourself into, Magnus?”

Raphael watched him shrug his skinny shoulders and hang his head.

“I love him,” Magnus mumbled, “like so much it breaks my spine. I’d do anything.”

Raphael wanted to smack Magnus upside the head and beat the Lightwood boy into a bloody pulp.

_See if he still likes it after I’m done with him._

He completely understood why Cat had lost her temper the other week. It took effort to unclench his fists right now. Raphael breathed slowly in and out.

“This isn’t healthy,” he said quietly. “Magnus, you’re…”

Raphael didn’t even know what to say. This was the emotional stuff he wasn’t any good at. He couldn’t even figure out his own mess with Simon. How the hell was he going to help with the seriously messed up thing going on between Magnus and Alec Lightwood?

“I know,” Magnus said just as quietly.

He dropped the list and slid back down, latching his arms back around Raphael’s waist.

Raphael draped his arms around Magnus’s skinny back and squeezed.

Hot breath vibrated maddeningly against Raphael’s side as Magnus groaned out the word ‘fuck’, holding the single vowel as long as his breath would allow. Then he pulled himself up with a sniff and a resolute expression.

“Okay, I’m done,” he declared, wiping his face and smearing black streaks all over it and his fingers in the process. “I gotta pull myself together.”

Raphael snorted. “You sure you can manage?”

He couldn’t imagine being in Magnus’s position. There was no way he’d ever end up like that, and not just because he wasn’t the least bit interested in any kind of sex.

“Of course,” Magnus said flippantly. “I am Magnus Bane.”

He sat up straight and squared his shoulders with a haughty expression. His eyes glittered as he flashed a brilliant smile.

“There is nothing I can’t do.”

It would have looked convincing if not for the black makeup smudges on his cheeks.

Raphael picked up the other list from the mattress, not surprised to find a lot more boxes checked ‘no’ at first glance.

“This says otherwise,” he rumbled, holding up the checklist between his thumb and index finger.

Magnus snatched it from him with an angry flare of his nostrils.

“There is a difference between ‘can’t’ and ‘won’t’. This is simply stuff I won’t do.” 

“If you say so.” Raphael sighed. “What _are _you going to do?”

Magnus shrugged. “Alec needs me. I’ll be there for him as long as he does.”

Raphael furrowed his brows. “And what about what you need?”

When Magnus shrugged again, it looked a lot more like he was writhing uncomfortably under the question.

“I’ll be fine,” he said dismissively. “As long as I can convince Catarina to stop hating me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Raphael said immediately.

“Right now, she does.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

Magnus’s eyes went wide. Then he laughed shakily. “You gotta stop doing that.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“That.” Magnus spread his kohl stained fingers and waved his hand around in front of Raphael’s face. “With the scowl, and the tone of voice, and the shoulders. The whole thing. It’s hot, don’t get me wrong, but someday, they’ll arrest you just for walking down the street in New York City because they can’t tell the difference between a real Italian mafioso and a Latino who just acts like a mob boss.”

“You and Simon, I swear.” Raphael relaxed his jaw and rolled his eyes.

“That’s better.” Magnus snickered. “How’s your thing with Simon going, anyway?”

Raphael froze. “What thing?”

He was surprised Magnus had noticed anything, given how wrapped up he had been in his own issues between Cat and the crazy Lightwood kid.

“You know.” Magnus waggled his brows suggestively and made a kissy face.

How in heaven and hell had Magnus found out about that? It had been one kiss. The other one didn’t count. One moment of weakness behind closed doors. It had been unexpected and awkward and it had nearly cost him his friendship with Simon.

“There is no thing,” he said stiffly. “It was nothing. We’re just friends.”

“Are you sure?”

Raphael clenched his jaw. 

Of course, he was sure. Things were what they were. He was who he was. No amount of longing puppy-dog looks or comforting hugs or gentle kisses would change anything about that. All they could ever be was friends.

“Yes,” he ground the word through his teeth.

Magnus sighed and snuggled up to Raphael’s side.

“Love is like ice-cream, cinna-bun,” he drawled sagely. “There are tons of delicious flavors. It would be a crying shame to stick with just one for your whole life. You should try all of them at least once.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes.

If they were going to talk in stupid metaphors, he might as well have this discussion with Magnus. God knew it had been sitting in his stomach like rotten food for the past week.

“What if I don’t like ice-cream?” he said challengingly.

“Who doesn’t like ice-cream?”

Magnus stared at him aghast. Obviously, he didn’t quite understand the metaphor. Raphael tried again.

“What if I’m lactose intolerant?”

“There’s always sorbet.”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not until the universe explodes.” Magnus grinned. “Or until the other person admits I’m right, whichever happens first.” Then he sobered up. “Seriously, though. Are you honestly telling me you’re not even a tiny little bit walking on sunshine for, well, sunshine?”

“Sunshine?” Raphael cringed.

Magnus gave him the same pointed look he had given Raphael about grooming his eyebrows. As if it was an obvious thing that only a complete idiot would have missed.

“That boy’s smile could dust a vampire, and you know it.”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not gay. I’m not anything.”

Magnus pulled back to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Raphael clenched his jaw. He could feel the heat start to crawl up his face like lava. When he averted his eyes from Magnus’s searching look, his gaze drifted across the two crumpled sex checklists on the bed.

“I’m not interested in sex. With anyone. At all. Ever.”

Magnus didn’t react.

Raphael dropped his head. He waited for Magnus to pull away and start to question him or worse try to prove him wrong.

“Oh!” Magnus exclaimed. “Now I get it.” He snickered against Raphael’s shoulder. “Not what I thought you meant when you said lactose intolerant.”

Raphael’s face burned.

Magnus squeezed his arms around Raphael and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s all right, cinna-bun. I’m sure you two can figure it out. Remember, there’s always sorbet.”

Raphael closed his eyes and groaned.

When they went to the mess hall for dinner, Cat was sitting alone at one end of their usual table.

Raphael was done putting up with it. When they reached her, he stopped Magnus with a firm grip on his elbow, dropped his tray on the table, and sat down at Cat’s right-hand side. Then he pointedly pulled out the chair next to him with his boot.

Magnus sank into the seat with a mulish glare.

Cat glared at Magnus with a scowl that would have sent lesser men running.

“Do you have something to say to me?” she asked sharply.

“Do you have something you’d like to take back?” Magnus drawled.

“Enough,” Raphael barked.

It made both of them snap to him, which was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Look, I know things went to shit over Lightwood, but you two are best friends. There’s gotta be some way to get over this.”

Cat flared up. “He’s just using him.”

“That’s none of your business,” Magnus snapped.

“You are my business,” she snapped back.

“That doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.”

“Somebody has to!”

“I know what I’m doing!”

“No, you don’t!”

Simon arrived in the middle of the screaming match. He looked at Cat and Magnus, then he looked at Raphael. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

Cat and Magnus didn’t even notice. They kept right on going.

Raphael watched with a growing hole in his stomach while Simon crossed the room and sat down at a table full of people right next to the curly girl who had put her arm around Simon in the hallway. Simon leaned his head on her shoulder. She smiled and patted his back.

“That’s enough!” Raphael slammed his fist on the table. The dishes rattled. “Enough,” he said again, more calmly.

In his mind’s eye, he was at home. His hands were clenched around the cloth napkin in his lap while he glanced toward his father at the head of the dinner table.

Antonio Santiago had rarely lost his temper. More often than not it had happened in the middle of dinner when he had grown tired of his children bickering across the table.

Raphael couldn’t remember any of the inconsequential things they had fought over all the time. He did remember his father’s favorite speech. The rumbling voice echoed in his head as Raphael translated the words he had heard a million times. He had never really understood them until today.

“You are family,” he said firmly. “You love each other, and you respect each other, and you do not ever turn your back. If you’re angry, tell it to God. Now apologize, forgive, and enough.”

It had sounded more impressive when his father had said it. The words just didn’t seem to wield the same power and finality in English.

Cat and Magnus stared at him, gaping.

Raphael pushed himself away from the table and left.

He headed straight to the chapel. As usual, the pews were empty. The heavy wooden door closed behind him with a soft bang. Everything went quiet.

Raphael sat down in a pew close to the back, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Then he leaned forward, folded his hands, and prayed.

The next morning, Raphael was determined to skip breakfast. He was just finishing up the Double Windsor knot on his school tie when there was a knock on his door.

Raphael open it from his spot in front of the mirror and froze.

Simon’s eyes stared resolutely at a spot somewhere below Raphael’s chin as he bounced on his heels. His school uniform looked rumpled, and he’d messed up the knot in his tie. He lifted one hand from behind his back and held it up between them. On his palm sat a bran muffin wrapped in a paper napkin.

Raphael snatched it out of his hand. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

He placed the muffin on his desk and completed fixing his tie. He could feel Simon’s gaze drilling holes into his back. He squared his shoulders.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday,” Simon blurted. “I just … They were both screaming, and you know how I get around conflict. It was just easier not to get in the middle of it. You seemed like you had a handle on it.”

Raphael could feel his shoulders tighten with guilt and anger. Of course, he knew how Simon felt about conflict. He knew perfectly well how Simon felt about every damn thing. That didn’t mean it hurt any less when Raphael had to watch Simon walk away and—

Raphael clenched his jaw and spun around with a glare.

“Is that the only reason?” he asked coldly.

Simon flinched. He averted his gaze and stared at the floor.

“I just don’t know how to act around you anymore,” he admitted in a low grumble.

Raphael could feel the icy tendrils of frustration crawl around under his skin.

“Act like you always have,” he said. “Be my friend.”

“It’s not that fucking easy, okay?” Simon snapped, hands flying out of his back pockets to flap in the air. “I don’t know how! Like—” He stopped abruptly, scratched at his cheek, and shook his head. “Why the fuck did I have to…”

It was the last straw.

“¡Chingalo! Then just pretend we didn’t! I just want you back!” Raphael slammed his hand against the side of his desk and corrected himself. “I want _things_ back to the way they were before.”

Simon was jittering. His eyes were going all over the place behind his glasses. He clawed his fingers into his necktie and started to yank on it.

“Can you, please, stop yelling?” he said thinly.

Raphael growled from the bottom of his chest and drove his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he snarled through his teeth. “Sorry.”

He tried to get a hold of his temper and pull it all back in. The last thing he wanted to happen right now was one of Simon’s anxiety attacks. Not when he would be forced to watch without being allowed to help. Worse, Simon might tell him to go away.

Simon was still struggling with his tie. The twisted knot had tightened on itself and wasn’t coming loose. He was working himself into a frenzy like an animal caught inside a sling trap.

Raphael cursed quietly under his breath this time and took a step toward Simon. It hurt when Simon reared back.

“Hold still.”

The second he touched Simon’s fingers they slipped away from him. Raphael tried to ignore it and carefully worked the twisted knot until it came loose. He slipped the tie off Simon’s neck and put it on the desk.

“There.”

Simon was still looking everywhere except Raphael.

It made Raphael sick to his stomach. “Will you, please, let me touch you?”

Simon exhaled a shaky, stuttering laugh. He glared at Raphael for a moment before he averted his eyes again. His hands were clenched into tight fists as his sides. He sniffed.

Raphael’s fists were clenched just as tightly.

“Please?”

Simon sucked in a breath, glared at him. Then he nodded jerkily.

Raphael moved slowly. He raised his arms and wrapped them around Simon’s shoulders. He waited for what felt like hours. Finally, he felt Simon’s arms come up and close around his back.

“I’m sorry,” Raphael repeated sincerely. He reached up tentatively and brushed his fingers through the curls at the nape of Simon’s neck. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Simon’s grip tightened. “But you’re still mad at me.”

Raphael shook his head against Simon’s shoulder.

“No. I’m not mad at you.”

Simon huffed a long breath against his shoulder and inhaled deeply. He did the same thing a couple more times.

Raphael waited patiently. He would stand right where he was, with his arms around Simon and combing his fingers through Simon’s hair, for as long as it took. He was willing to do anything to get them back to where they had been before.

Simon pulled back to look at him. He was actually making eye-contact with Raphael this time.

“So, we’re okay?” he asked.

“We’re okay.”

He let go of Simon and stepped back, feeling a little weird at the loss of contact. Raphael shook it off and grabbed the muffin from the desk.

“Thanks for getting me breakfast. I forgot.”

He took a bite. His stomach gurgled as if to remind him he was an asshole for neglecting it all the time.

Simon snorted. “I figured. Hey, can you help me with my tie? I hate those damn things. I can never get it to come out right. Bubbe says I’m hopeless. She’s shown me how to do it like a million times, but I still end up letting my mom do it every time she insists on dragging me to temple, so now I still don’t know how to do it, and Clary’s too busy playing tonsil-hockey with Jace, so…”

Raphael chuckled. “Shut up, and come here.”

If Simon was back to rambling, they were going to be okay.

The feeling lasted until dinner on Tuesday. Raphael had almost convinced himself that everything was back to normal. Cat and Magnus were back on speaking terms. Things were still a little strained. They had to avoid certain subjects, but at least they had gone back to sitting next to each other, so that Simon and Raphael could do the same.

“Oh, what are we doing for the Halloween thing this Sunday?” asked Cat over her slice of pumpkin pie.

Raphael’s brows furrowed. “There’s a thing?”

Simon perked up. “Oh, yeah. Maia told me about it on Saturday. Apparently, they do this all-day thing here, kind of like a spooky carnival. Only until regular curfew, but still. Everyone dresses up like crazy and there’s a competition and a prize for the best costume and everything.”

Raphael’s stomach twisted at the name Maia. This was the first time Simon had mentioned the girl in front of him. Raphael put his fork back down and pushed his plate away.

Simon rambled on. “I promised her we’d go together as Bonnie and Damon from Vampire Diaries.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Simon’s smile was blinding. “Maia Roberts. From my history class. She’s over there.”

He leaned around Raphael and waved at someone a few tables over.

Raphael didn’t have to turn his head to know who it was. He knew exactly who Maia Roberts was. His question had been referring to the characters she and Simon were going to dress up as.

Raphael almost jumped out of his skin when Magnus patted him on the back of his fist.

“It’s a witch and a vampire. She’s totally in love with some other vampire named Enzo and he’s totally gone over a chick named Elena. They’re just friends.” Magnus put extra emphasis on the last three words.

Cat snorted. “Not according to season 6 subtext, the novels, and all the good fanfiction on AO3.” The table rattled severely. She glared at Magnus. “Ow!”

“They’re just friends,” Magnus said again insistently.

Simon snickered. “I didn’t know you two were into that show.” He grinned at Raphael. “Ship wars are scary, man.”

Raphael clenched his jaw.

The rest of the week barreled past like an express train. The next Saturday, Rosa acted as if nothing had ever happened. Raphael let her ‘beat him’ at Scrabble anyway. On Sunday the 31st, Father Aldertree insisted to close up shop after morning mass to allow Raphael to enjoy the Halloween festivities.

Magnus had somehow talked Raphael into dressing up as fashionable 1920s gangsters complete with pinstripe suits, fedoras, trench coats, and fake cigars.

Cat had opted to turn into a flapper girl. Her hair was tucked under a glittering headband in an intricate shellacked updo. Her sequined dress sparkled and its beaded fringe hem rustled every time she moved.

Raphael might have had fun at the Halloween Carnival. Might have, if he hadn’t been forced to spend the whole day suffering the sight of “Bonnie and Damon”.

Currently, they were posing together for pictures to submit to the costume contest.

Cat had run off to play more games as soon as the photographer was done with her, leaving Magnus and Raphael behind to wait for the other two.

Maia Roberts was dressed in the skimpiest damn spaghetti strap T-shirt and a mini skirt that was so short Raphael was pretty sure it was supposed to be a belt. Her high heels made her almost as tall as Simon and she kept hanging on Simon’s arm as if she didn’t know how to walk in them.

Simon wore a black leather jacket, a snug silky button-down shirt, and a pair of ridiculously skinny blue jeans. To add insult to injury, his hair was drenched in gel to keep it straight, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and he sported a pair of crystal blue contact lenses that made his eyes look all wrong. Oh, and fangs.

_Because, of course, she made him put on fucking fake fangs._

Raphael clenched his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest.

Magnus leaned heavily on his shoulder and purred in his ear. “If you glare at them any harder, they might actually incinerate.”

Raphael writhed and shook him off. “They’re just friends, right?”

He was fuming, nauseous, sick of looking at Maia draping herself all over Simon.

Magnus took off his hat and ran one hand through his hair with a sigh. “Even if they are, what about the next person?” His face softened. “If you want to be more than just friends with him,” he said quietly, “you’re gonna have to do something about it.”

“Yeah? What am I supposed to do?”

Magnus shrugged his skinny shoulders and put his fedora back on.

“Fuck if I know, kid. I’m barely muddlin’ through with my own guy.”

He tipped his hat and walked away.

The words jarred him. Raphael thought about checklists and the desperate look in Magnus’s eyes when he’d confessed that he would do anything for Alec Lightwood.

How far was Raphael willing to go for Simon Lewis? What boxes was he willing to mark with a 2?

Raphael’s eyes moved back to Maia and Simon.

They were hugging. Simon’s arms were wrapped around her and he had buried his face in her neck. She squealed and giggled. Simon’s hand slipped.

Raphael snapped.


	16. Or More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Another Saturday, another update. We're picking up right where we left off. Please keep kudos and comments coming. I love to read your opinion, speculations, random moments of excitement, whatever's going through your head. Leave a comment here, because I don't tweet, so I can't do that live tweet thing that I've seen going around. 
> 
> Enough waffling. On with the show.
> 
> ###### 

Simon pulled Maia’s shirt down, trying to keep her from squirming out of her clothes in her attempt to escape the exaggerated slurping noises he was making against the side of her neck.

“Don’t be crude.”

Simon froze.

He pulled his face out of Maia’s neck and looked up straight into the deadliest glare in the history of glares.

Raphael looked beyond pissed. It was worse than that time he had found out Alec Lightwood had cornered Simon after archery practice.

Simon barely felt it when Maia slapped at his hands and untangled herself.

She was blushing profusely and struggled to pull down her skirt farther than it was capable of going.

“We were just horsing around,” she said quickly.

“Yeah, I’m a vampire. I’m supposed to do that.” Simon tried to grin. It didn’t stick.

Raphael’s glower turned even darker. “You’re not a vampire. You’re a nerd with fake fangs.”

Simon’s jaw dropped. “And you’re not a real mafia boss. You don’t scare me.”

Raphael’s nostrils flared as he tilted his head. His shoulders seemed to grow even bigger, and then he took a step forward.

All in all, it was a very effective way to prove Simon wrong. He slid back a step, opened his mouth, and gasped for words that wouldn’t come.

Someone behind them cleared their throat. It was the photographer.

“If you guys are done, can you take it somewhere else? I’ve got people waiting in line to take pictures.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes and took a few steps back to allow Simon and Maia to walk past him out of the blue screen set.

They had barely left the photography tent when Raphael’s hand was around Simon’s elbow, holding him back.

“I need to talk to you,” he growled. “Alone.”

Simon bobbed his head up and down. “Yeah, sure.” He snapped around to Maia. “Can you, um…”

He made a jerky motion with his free arm, failing to produce all the words necessary to ask her to give them a minute so Raphael could kill him and bury his body in private.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

Unlike Simon, she seemed to know what to say because, before she walked away, she shot Raphael a very sharp and pointy look.

“We’re just friends,” she said, “so get over it and fess up already.”

Raphael clenched his jaw and returned the look with an even sharper and pointier one, but he didn’t say anything.

Once Maia was gone, Simon tried again to make words happen in the right order to mean stuff.

“What did I do now?” he asked, pulling his arm out of Raphael’s grip.

He had no idea why Raphael was so mad at him. Magnus and Cat had done way worse things in way more public places.

“Nothing.”

Simon scoffed. “That’s not your nothing-face.”

“Not here.” Raphael looked around with a grimace.

Simon followed his gaze. They were out in the back forty, surrounded by hundreds of people, in the middle of a large carnival. There were game booths, and food stands, and rides. There was even a Ferris wheel.

“Did I mention I’m scared of heights?” Simon blurted.

Raphael shook his head. “What?”

“Heights. Me. Scared.”

Raphael made a weird growling noise and grabbed him by the wrist.

“Come on.”

Raphael dragged him along between the booths and tents. Once they had left the carnival behind, Simon could tell they were headed to the old stables.

Raphael still hadn’t said a word. He still looked livid. He still hadn’t let go of Simon’s wrist.

Simon let himself be marched like an unruly child all the way into the front area of the stables before he snatched his arm back and dug his heels in.

“Okay, what is going on with you?” he blurted, crossing his arms tightly to keep himself from fidgeting. “Are you trying to trigger me? Because if not, you’re doing a shit job, and if yes, it’s starting to work, well done.”

Raphael turned around and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. He looked like he’d stepped out of a black-and-white movie. When he lowered his head, the fedora hid half of his face.

Simon half-expected him to look up and quote Casablanca. Here’s looking at you, kid. He chortled and hugged himself tighter.

“We need to talk about the kiss.”

Simon’s heart thumped like someone had punched him in the chest. He snapped for breath.

“No.”

“Simon, please, just listen to me?”

Raphael’s voice was calm and low. He was standing perfectly still with his hands in his pockets and his face hidden behind that stupid hat.

Simon was the complete opposite. He was totally exposed, hands struggling to fly out from under his tightly clenched arms and explode in every direction.

“Why?”

They had only just gotten back to normal. It had almost ruined everything. There was no need to talk about it. If they didn’t ever talk about it again, it would be too soon.

“Because I didn’t make myself clear the last time, and I really need you to hear me out.”

Simon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He let it out slowly and inhaled again slowly. He tried to visualize his room at home: his bed; his Batman comforter; the posters on the wall. Nirvana. Jade Bird. Dylan. Bailen.

“What could be clearer than ‘I don’t feel the same way about you’?” he snapped. “I’d say that’s crystal as far as clarity goes.”

Raphael’s jaw clenched under the brim of his fedora. “That’s not what I said.”

“Bullshit!”

“It’s not!” Raphael ripped the fedora off his head and dropped it on a bale of hay. He drove his fingers through his hair and made a frustrated noise in his throat. “I said I am different and that I don’t feel the same way.” He gritted his teeth. “I was talking about sex.”

“What?”

Simon’s brain screeched to a halt and tumbled over into trying to figure out what sex had to do with anything.

_It was just a kiss._

He hadn’t even thought about doing anything else. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about kissing Raphael until it had already been happening, and he’d been too stunned at himself for even doing it, and then Raphael had made a face, and everything had gone to—

“Simon, it’s okay.”

Raphael’s voice was close and calm and Simon wanted to kill him because now he’d really gone and done it, and—

“Breathe.”

Simon sucked in a breath and glared at the TV screen. Then he breathed out and glared at the saddle tack. Then he breathed in and glared at the bales of hay. He closed his eyes.

“Look at me. Can you do that?”

Simon wanted to smack him. He was trying to focus on his breathing techniques. How about maybe he could get a handle on that first? Eye contact was really not high on Simon’s list of priorities right now.

Raphael mumbled a string of curses in Spanish.

Simon snorted and kept focusing on his breathing, eyes firmly closed. He tried to visualize his room at home again. Batman comforter, Nirvana, Bailen …

“Look, what I was trying to tell you,” Raphael said in that smooth low rumble that tickled Simon’s lizard brain. “The reason I didn’t react the way you expected is because kissing doesn’t make me melt, or shiver, or beg to be taken like a romance novel chick, or anything like that.”

_What the fuck is he even talking about?_

“I’m just not interested in sex. Okay? Ever.”

Simon furrowed his brows over his closed eyes. Shook his head. “That’s it?”

Raphael had ripped him away from a fun day at the carnival, dragged him out here, and nearly kicked him down a damn spiral for that? Really? Really?

Raphael huffed. “Think about what you’re saying. Really think about it.”

Simon tried to think about it. Unfortunately, his brain was currently a little bit all over the place.

He forced himself to exhale slowly through his mouth and then took another deep breath. He tried to sink his mental claws into the thought and examine it: Raphael didn’t want sex.

_Who cares?_

“Being with me wouldn’t be like being with Clary or anyone else.”

“No shit.”

Clary didn’t know Simon like Raphael did. For as long as Simon had known her, and for all that he loved her and always would, he could never let Clary see him like this. When he was at his most impossible and falling apart at the seams, there was only one person he wanted to be around. Even if that person happened to be the asshole who had set him off in the first place.

“I’m serious, Simon. I don’t think you get what I’m trying to tell you.”

“So, you don’t want sex,” he snapped. “Big deal.”

Simon had never had sex. He’d probably freak out if he thought about it too much. His romantic history included exactly one drunken fumbling make-out session with Maureen and two kisses with Raphael, both of which had gone spectacularly wrong.

“Isn’t it?” Raphael said. “Think about it. I mean, I’m not saying we would never do anything, but I’m not going to initiate it, and it would be pretty much like me going with you to one of your board game conventions. I’d do it because it makes you happy, but it’s really not my thing.”

Simon’s eyes popped open and his jaw dropped. “You don’t like going to conventions?”

“Simon,” Raphael grumbled.

“Sorry, sorry.”

His brain was still zigzagging. It was a little less intense now, but he was still pretty worked up. Confused, too, because it sounded like Raphael wanted to be more than friends but was trying to talk Simon out of it at the same time.

Simon took a few more deep breaths and finally managed to scrape together enough focus to look directly at Raphael.

Raphael’s brows were furrowed over his nose and he was looking at Simon with a mixture of a whole bunch of emotions Simon couldn’t begin to put words to.

_Too damn complicated. _

_Can’t find the words to say. _

_Look between them. See me._

_Promise you’ll stay. _

Maybe someday Simon would have the guts to tell Raphael he’d written the song for him.

_Fuck._

Simon couldn’t believe how close they’d come to ruining everything. How could he even explain it in a way that would make sense?

“You make my brain go quiet,” he admitted. “Not always, obviously.” He raised his tightly crossed arms, indicating his current state. “And it doesn’t last very long, but when you hold me or hook your leg around mine or comb your fingers through my hair, I get these moments where everything goes quiet and still and I’m not worried or over-thinking things or going a thousand miles a minute in circles.”

He looked at Raphael, hoped he was getting across how big of a deal that was and what he was trying to say.

“And if that’s all you’re ever willing to do, then that’s already more than anyone else has ever been able to give me.”

Raphael looked stunned. The whole dark and gloomy mafia boss persona had dropped from his face, and he actually looked like he was sixteen and vulnerable and scared. No one had ever been scared of Simon.

“Relax.” Simon chuckled. “I promise I won’t bite.”

Raphael’s eyes narrowed as a distinct shade of red started to creep up his face.

For the first time, Simon recognized it for what it was. Raphael was embarrassed.

“I’m not scared,” Raphael growled.

“Bullshit,” Simon took a step closer, watching Raphael flinch and stop himself from taking a step back. “You’re terrified. Of little-old me?”

“Simon.”

If he’d tried to make it sound like a warning, it had come out way too thin. Simon grinned.

“Can I hug you?”

Raphael scowled, but he nodded.

Simon went for it. He was maybe holding on a little too tightly, but Raphael was a tough guy, he could take it. Simon smiled into the collar of the trench coat.

“Does that mean I’m your boyfriend now?”

He’d never been anyone’s boyfriend. It sounded so cool, like he was the guy with the awesome car or maybe a motorcycle who came to pick up his sweetheart from school. Not that Simon had either of those or that Raphael could ever be called someone’s ‘sweetheart’. At least, not by anyone who wished to remain alive.

Simon felt Raphael’s arms tighten around his back in retaliation.

“Yes.”

Why had that sounded like a threat? Never mind, it was probably just one of those things where Raphael sounded angry when he was embarrassed. It was kinda cute, actually.

Simon pulled back with a grin.

“Can I kiss you?”

Raphael was still scowling. “Not with those things in your mouth.”

Simon snickered and popped the fang braces out of his mouth.

“Better?”

“I hate that shit in your hair. And those contacts. Your eyes look all wrong.”

Simon rolled his ‘wrong-looking’ eyes. “I kinda like them. They’re prescription.”

“I like your glasses,” Raphael insisted.

“Liar.”

Nobody liked his glasses. They were big and dorky. Simon had just never bothered to get something nicer because he was a klutz who tended to break nice things.

Raphael’s fingers dug into the small of his back as he pulled back with a heated glare.

“I like you. _Bonnie_ can go find someone else to be her Damon.”

Things finally clicked into place. Raphael had been jealous. He’d lost his temper because he thought Simon and Maia were fooling around. Nobody had ever been jealous over Simon, either.

“Okay, now I really want to kiss you. Is that okay?”

Raphael closed his eyes and exhaled a grumbling breath.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he said quietly.

Simon frowned. “You sure? If you’re just going to make a face—”

Raphael cut him off with a snarly noise and pressed his lips firmly against Simon’s mouth.

Simon’s brain checked out without a forwarding address.

The kiss didn’t last long, but, when Simon opened his eyes this time, Raphael wasn’t making a face. He was smirking. Then he patted Simon’s cheek in a way that made Simon feel like he’d accidentally flashed all his cards at a poker game.

_I’m done for._

They went back to the carnival grounds. Simon caught a glimpse of Maia next to Bat, Jordan, and Gretel in the crowd. He waved until she made eye contact and flashed her a quick thumbs-up and a brilliant smile.

She shook her head with an equally big smile and exaggeratedly mouthed something that definitely looked like “Goober”.

Simon didn’t even care.

He stumbled over his own feet when Raphael pulled him along by his elbow.

“I want to go shoot something,” he growled.

Simon snickered and bounced along beside him. “I bet you do.”

They found Cat at the nearest shooting gallery, taking out little plastic stars with an old-fashioned bolt-action rifle.

“Look at you, Annie Oakley,” Simon said with a grin.

“Shut up,” she said curtly, cranking the bolt, “you’re messing with my focus. I want that tiger.”

Simon assumed she was talking about the big white monstrosity sitting on a shelf in the top corner. With the number of stars required to win the stuffed tiger, it would be cheaper to buy it at a toy store.

“You could just buy—”

Raphael cut him off with a hand on his shoulder and a shake of his head.

“It’s a pride thing,” he rumbled and turned to the vendor, holding up a fifty-dollar bill. “I’ll take fifty shots.”

Cat whipped her head around, rifle still firmly pointed in the direction of the stars, and huffed out a scandalized breath.

“You wouldn’t,” she said in a low threatening tone.

“Afraid of a little competition?”

“You’re on.”

Simon stood back and watched in disbelief, shaking his head. Clearly, Cat and Raphael had lost their minds. Spending 50 bucks each to try to out-shoot each other and maybe get a stuffed animal that they could have bought at a store for half that. He rolled his eyes.

It was fun to watch though, the two of them bickering and trying to mess with each other’s concentration.

“Simon, do me a favor?” Cat said sweetly.

“Uh,” he stalled. He really didn’t want to get dragged into this. 

“Grope Raphael. I only need six more stars.”

Simon froze with his eyes wide as saucers. They hadn’t even told Cat that they were together. How could she—

“Don’t be crude,” Raphael growled. “He knows better than that.”

Simon nodded avidly. “Yeah, I’d like to keep both my hands, thanks. In case I ever do get his permission to, you know, actually do that. Not that it matters if I don’t…”

“What?”

Cat’s next shot went so far off course, it hit a moving duck at the back of the booth, making it fall over.

Raphael paused and then hit two more stars dead on.

In the end, neither of the two hit enough stars to win the tiger. Cat was miffed, but her interest turned onto something else really quickly.

“Does that mean you two are officially official now?”

“Yeah,” Simon said with a big grin, “I guess we are.”

Cat made a high-pitched squealing noise and bounced on her feet, making the shiny stones and beaded strings on the hem of her flapper dress rustle.

“That’s amazing!” She bounced up and hugged first Raphael, then Simon, then Raphael again, then Simon again. “I can’t wait to dress you up for Winter Wonderland!” The look on her face was positively manic with glee. “So much glitter!”

Simon could feel his face freeze up in a grimace of terror. He had no idea how Cat got that idea into her head or how he was going to get it back out of there. Worse, she would probably tell Magnus, and he’d totally be on board with it, and then he and Raphael would really be up glitter creek without a paddle.

Luckily, he wasn’t alone in this. He had someone to fight in his corner. Simon turned his head to look at Raphael with a strongly worded silent plea in his eyes.

Raphael’s glower was a magnificent thing to behold. He looked mean, and dangerous, and smoking hot. But mostly dangerous.

“No.”

It was the kind of no that came with subtitles that said there would be no more discussion of the subject.

“Aww,” Cat whined.

She tried to pull off one of Magnus’s cajoling expressions that always reminded Simon a little bit of that puss-in-boots Disney character, but it didn’t work on her face.

“Not even a little glitter?” she wheedled.

Raphael countered her wheedling with a stone-cold look and crossed his arms.

“No.”

Cat sucked her pout back in and stuck her tongue out.

“Has anyone ever told you that you sound like Oscar the Grouch?” she asked and waggled her head back and forth, imitating the Sesame Street character’s raspy voice. “No. No. No.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes.

Simon just knew he wanted to say no, but now he couldn’t because he’d only prove Cat’s point. Because now that Simon thought about it, sometimes Raphael did totally sound like that.

Simon’s boyfriend was a smoking hot blend of Michael Corleone and Oscar the Grouch.

He tried not to laugh, but it was a lost battle from the start.

Cat snickered and danced on her feet. She started looking around, scanning the nearby crowd.

“Where’s Magnus?” she asked. “He’ll be so happy for you guys. Oh, this is awesome.”

Simon’s brows crinkled. The last time he’d seen Magnus, he’d been standing with Cat and Raphael inside the photography tent.

“I thought he left the photo tent with you?”

“You were too busy fooling around with _Bonnie_ to notice much of anything,” Raphael groused.

Simon rolled his eyes and snickered. He still got a kick out of the jealousy, but Maia was his friend, and he wouldn’t let this get out of hand.

“Her name’s Maia, and we weren’t fooling around, we were horsing around. That’s different.”

Raphael sniffed. “I think Magnus took off to hook up with Lightwood.”

Mentioning that name went over as well as it always did between the three of them. None of them were fans of the messed-up thing going on between Magnus and Alec Lightwood.

They had all tried to reason with Magnus in their own way. Simon had made a total mess of his attempt.

First, he’d stalled for days until he had run into Alec in the corridor outside of Dr. Scott’s office on Thursday before last.

Then, by the time he had actually talked to Magnus after dinner that same night, his well-prepared speech had turned into a rambling mess of movie references and Star Wars quotes.

Needless to say, it hadn’t done any good.

Catarina made a frustrated noise and stomped her feet into the muddy ground.

“Stupid, fucking—”

“Cat,” Raphael said quietly.

“I’m still gonna text him,” she snapped. “Maybe if he hears about you two, he’ll decide he’d rather be here with his friends than some guy who’s just—”

“Come on, Cat,” Simon said, reinforcing Raphael’s attempt to make her let it go. “We tried. Magnus has to make up his own mind. It’s not like we can lock him up somewhere, which, by the way, never works. Like, best case scenario Disney’s Rapunzel – he runs off with Alec and gets in a bunch of trouble. Worst case scenario, The Ring – he never gets out, turns into an angry ghost, and goes on a killing spree. I don’t think either one’s a good option.”

Cat’s mouth dropped open as she stared at him with a frown.

“Sometimes,” she said, “you’re just really far out there. I mean, I love you to bits, but seriously. Really far out there.”

Simon shrugged, trying not to let it get to him. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard a variation on the same theme. It was easiest to play it off as a joke.

“Out there like from a galaxy far, far away?”

Cat rolled her eyes and snickered. “Far, far, far, far away.”

She sighed and stared at her phone for a long moment before she put it away. She still didn’t look happy, but at least she no longer looked like she was ready to go off on a long angry rant about Magnus and Alec.

“So,” she said. “Are you two gonna ditch me, too, and go make out somewhere?”

Simon caught Raphael’s uncomfortable look out of the corner of his eyes. Obviously, the thought of making out did not create the same pleasant excitement for Raphael that it did for Simon.

That would take some getting used to, but Simon had meant it when he had told Raphael he didn’t care about that stuff. At least, not so much that it made a difference.

“Pfft,” he said with a big eyeroll. “Hello? There’s a carnival going on. So, if you’re done being all competitive gunslingers, we can actually go on some rides.”

Cat’s eyes lit up, but Simon was a lot more invested in the small smile his smooth save had put on Raphael’s face. Score for Simon Lewis, quick-witted boyfriend.

They didn’t see Magnus until after dinner when all four of them met up at the old stables to watch a movie before curfew.

Magnus didn’t say much when he stumbled in, but he looked a little dazed and practically collapsed on the makeshift hay bale couch next to Catarina.

Simon had opted for the spot on the floor between Raphael’s knees again, hoping he’d be able to elicit a repeat of the relaxing head scratches from their previous movie night.

“You okay?” he asked, twisting around to look at Magnus with one arm draped across Raphael’s leg.

Magnus blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“You seem a little, um, out of it.”

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing. Just…” Magnus trailed off and shook his head. “What are we watching?”

Cat threw her legs over Magnus’s lap and tightened them.

“Bridget Jones’s Diary,” she announced.

“Oh, hell no!”

“No.”

“Do we have to?” Simon was the last to protest, but he turned his best puppy dog eyes on her. “That movie’s awful. I mean, of all the awful chick-flicks this is like the awfullest of awful. Do we really deserve that kind of punishment?”

“Fine.” Cat rolled her eyes. “Legally Blonde?”

There was more groaning from Raphael and Magnus, even though Simon didn’t mind that movie. He thought it was cute and funny.

Magnus jumped in. “How about Alien?” 

“Oh, come on.” Cat made a face and pouted. “Don’t be such guys, guys.”

“It’s Halloween!” Magnus howled in frustration. “Who watches chick-flicks on Halloween?”

“I don’t want to watch a scary movie,” Cat whined, bouncing her legs in Magnus’s lap.

“Oh, I know!” Simon grinned, tightening his arm around Raphael’s leg in excitement before he realized what he was doing and forced himself to relax his grip. “Rocky Horror Picture Show – the old one.”

Magnus was the first to agree. “Yeah, I’ll watch that.”

Cat snickered. “Tim Curry in drag is kinda hot. Oh, and that guy who played Rocky. Ripped.”

Raphael rolled his eyes and sprawled back on the couch with a shrug and a wordless grunt.

Simon craned his neck almost to the point where it might snap to look up.

“You don’t like it?”

“I’ve never actually seen it.”

“Oh, okay.” Simon tried not to start second-guessing his choice. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

Magnus had already put in the code to order the movie.

“No take-backsies now.”

Simon pulled up his knees, wrapped his arms around them, and buried his head.

Of course, it only occurred to his brain now that Raphael was just the type to hate campy musical movies with an over the top young Tim Curry dressed in drag and people in crazy costumes hamming it up non-stop for almost two hours.

The first few notes of the whimsical opening song started to play, and Simon didn’t need to raise his head to know that there was a pair of bright red lips mouthing the song on the backdrop of a completely black screen.

He cringed, but Magnus and Cat were already singing along. At least he wasn’t the only one who actually liked the movie.

Strong fingers crawled up the nape of his neck into his hair, ruffled his curls, and tightened. Simon let his head be pulled back and looked at Raphael upside down.

Raphael’s expression was grim, but it could have been much worse.

“Just tell me it’s better than Bridget Jones.”

“Oh, yeah.” Simon grinned. “Totally. I promise.” 

Raphael’s grip relaxed, but his fingers stuck around in Simon’s hair and started to scratch gently back and forth. Simon took that as a sign it was okay to wrap his arm around Raphael’s lower leg and get comfortable. 

He mentally prepared himself to lose a few strands the first time Tim Curry showed up on screen wearing a black corset, silk panties, and fishnets.


	17. Kinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone. Alec. Oh, Alec. *sigh*
> 
> Thank you so much for continuing to leave feedback and kudos on this long, convoluted ride. To all the newcomers, welcome to Alicante Academy, where everyone's messed up and nobody knows what they're doing but we're all muddling through, anyhow. 
> 
> Drop me a line, let me know what you think.
> 
> ###### 

Alec was nervous. He tried to hide it behind the wall he had learned to build over the years, but it wasn’t easy with Dr. Scott. The man had an unnerving ability to throw him off and get Alec to drop his game face. He would have to be on his guard.

This was his third therapy session. This time around, he was determined not to let anything slip. He just had to think of it as idle conversation and stick to safe topics. Midterms, homework, archery, things like that.

Dr. Scott started the tape recorder and sat back with one long leg crossed over the other. His suit ensemble was a rich brown this time, and his shiny shoes were a light tan with pointy tips.

“Last week you told me that you didn’t end up having a session with the prince because you were interrupted by a phone call. Did you have another opportunity since then?”

Alec froze.

His mind crashed into the memory faster than he could hit the brakes.

Halloween. Sneaking off to meet up in Magnus’s room. The unexpected turn-on of Magnus Bane in a classic gangster outfit.

“Um.”

“Any highlights you would like to share?”

Getting shoved up against the door with his cheek smashed to the wood. Scorching fingers clamped around the back of his neck.

“No,” he said, somewhere between a statement and a question.

Dr. Scott chuckled.

“It’s perfectly all right to talk to me about sex, Alec,” he said calmly. “I’ve told you before, I’m not going to be offended or shocked.”

Alec swallowed his knee-jerk impulse to prove the man wrong.

Dr. Scott snickered and leaned his smooth jaw on one manicured hand with a contemplative look.

“I might be surprised if you tell me you somehow managed to set up a full BDSM dungeon in one of your dorm rooms without anyone noticing,” he drawled. “The logistics of that would prove a challenge to even the most determined and well-connected student at this school.”

Alec’s heart thumped. The way Dr. Scott had phrased it, it sounded almost like he knew who the prince was. Alec licked his bottom lip and clamped his mouth shut.

“Other than that,” Dr. Scott said with a shrug, “I can promise you I’ve heard a lot of saucy stories, on the job and in private, and I’ve yet to come across one that has knocked my proverbial socks off.” He raised his chin from his hand and made a small noise in his throat. “Well, there was that one about the guy with the chicken...”

Alec grimaced with horror and disgust as he stared across the coffee table at Dr. Scott. He tried, in vain, to block the sordid mental images shooting through his brain.

“Hah!” Dr. Scott slapped his hand on the armrest of his chair. “Had you going there, didn’t I? I made that one up based on an old joke, but whatever you just imagined, I’m sure it was far worse than anything you might’ve done with the prince.”

Alec crossed his arms. “What was the joke?”

Dr. Scott smirked. “What’s the difference between sensual and depraved?”

Alec narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Dr. Scott was trying to imply something with the joke or not. He smoothed his expression and raised his chin.

“I don’t know,” he said carefully.

Dr. Scott’s smirk widened. “Teasing your partner with a feather is sensual. It’s depraved if you use the whole chicken.” 

Alec slapped his hands over his face and sank into the couch with a groan.

That joke was even worse than the lame pun jokes Lydia’s father liked to make at the dinner table.

“That was horrible.”

“I know,” Dr. Scott drawled. “Just imagine how the chicken felt about it.”

“Stop.” Alec’s stomach clenched with a suppressed laugh.

“Now do you feel ready to tell me about your session with the prince?”

Alec sighed.

“It was kind of weird,” he admitted. “Um, kind of like roleplay, I guess? Um. It happened on Halloween. We, um …”

Alec could feel the heat sweep up from the base of his neck all the way to his hairline.

Pressed up against the door, getting hard just from Magnus’s grip on the back of his neck. Magnus telling him to take off his shirt.

“He, um…”

Standing there, half-naked and hard. The way Magnus’s tone had shifted to something low and sensual when he’d told Alec to keep his hands flat on the wood and then asked him bluntly what he wanted.

“God, this is embarrassing.”

Alec crossed his legs and stared out of the polarized windows.

“What’s making you feel embarrassed?”

“Talking about it,” Alec snapped.

Just thinking about it. The way he wanted it. It was mortifying that Alec was starting to get hard just remembering the stuff he’d asked Magnus to do to him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Why is that?”

Alec vaulted himself out of the couch with a snarl.

“It’s not what I’m supposed to want.” He started to pace. “It’s the exact opposite of what I’m supposed to want. I’m supposed to be the guy who wants the wife, and the two-point-five kids, and the white picket fence, and not...”

Alec snapped his mouth shut and pulled himself together. Even once he had his game face back in place, he still cursed himself to hell and back.

Dr. Scott had done it again.

“The boyfriend and the two-bedroom condo with the BDSM dungeon?” the man suggested blithely. “What’s wrong with that?”

Alec scoffed.

He’d like to see Dr. Woolsey Scott try to say that to Maryse Lightwood. He could vividly imagine the look on his mother’s face. He could vividly imagine his mother slapping Dr. Scott in the face.

“Nothing,” Alec said blandly.

“Then what makes you think it’s wrong in your case?”

Alec forced himself to return to his seat. He crossed one leg over the other and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Can we talk about something else?”

Dr. Scott didn’t miss a beat. “What would you like to talk about?”

Alec shrugged. “Midterms or archery?”

“Do you find that either of those two subjects causes you problems?”

Those were in fact the only two subjects in his life that did not cause him any problems. He was an A-student, and he excelled in archery. 

“Who doesn’t stress over midterms?” he deflected.

“And how do you cope with that stress?”

Alec blinked. “What do you mean?”

“What do you do to alleviate the stress of midterms, or any other stress for that matter?”

Alec had never actually thought about that. He had no idea. He just kept going until the stress went away on its own or he forgot about it.

More recently, he’d started his arrangement with Magnus, which they were definitely not circling back around to today.

“I don’t know.” Alec shrugged. “Archery?”

He liked it for the precision and focus it required. There was no one else to care about, nobody trying to mess with him. As long as he could keep his eye on the target, it was all up to him.

“What do you like about archery?”

Alec smirked. “It’s simple. All you have to do is focus. When I’m on the shooting line, aiming for the target, everything around it is just a meaningless blur. It feels really good to score a bulls-eye.”

After his session with Dr. Scott, Alec went back to his room for a quick shower, a change of clothes, and to take his meds. He texted Magnus before he left for dinner.

**Tonight?**

He got no response. Magnus was too busy holding court in the mess hall, surrounded by his usual group.

Alec forced himself to keep his eyes on his own plate after his routine exchange with Izzy about taking his pills.

When he still didn’t have a response by the time he was back in his own room, he distracted himself with revision notes for midterms.

Before he realized it, curfew had rolled around. He was sitting at his desk, going over his biology notes when Mr. Rey knocked on his door.

“Mr. Lightwood?”

Alec still got a kick out of how hesitant the man’s voice sounded these days.

“Yes,” he said curtly, trying to imitate Magnus’s tone when he had told Rey to go away.

Of course, there was no response.

Unfortunately, thinking of the way Magnus had sounded made Alec think of the way Magnus had looked, sitting on top of him, eyes as cold as frozen earth emphasized by dramatic makeup and an expression that commanded absolute obedience.

Alec buried his face in his arm and groaned.

Eyes squeezed shut, he reached into the bottom drawer of his desk. His fingers closed blindly around the cold bundle of silk and pulled it out.

The scent was gone. He’d had the shirt for two weeks now. Still, the way the silk went from cold to hot when he tied it around his nose and mouth was enough. At least, it had to be for tonight.

The next morning, he still didn’t have a response from Magnus.

It was ridiculous. There was no reason they could only meet on weekends. That hadn’t been part of their agreement. It was just a pattern they were quickly falling into since the first weekend when they had gone to see Daddy.

Looking back, Alec wondered if it had been a mistake to leave the room while Magnus had talked on the phone with his father that day. It had obviously been a tense conversation, and Alec hadn’t wanted to intrude.

He had figured Magnus would come find him after he was done, but that had never happened. Instead, they had exchanged a string of sparse, sporadic text messages throughout the week.

Then Halloween had happened.

Magnus had flogged him with a towel until his shoulders had burned and his ass had felt like he wouldn’t be able to sit on it for a week. Alec had come in his pants, rutting into Magnus’s hot palm like a mindless animal.

He shivered at the memory. Embarrassed and horny. He jerked off in the shower.

Alec let it go until after classes, but he pulled out his phone as soon as he walked into the locker rooms for archery training.

**Want 2 c u tonight.**

He put the phone down on the bench and changed into his sweatpants and T-shirt. His mood soured when the messaging app once again failed to chime with a reply.

Alec locked his phone inside the locker, grabbed his bow and quiver, and headed into the gym.

The rest of the team was already there. Lydia was sitting by herself, tending to her bow.

On the other end of the same bench, Simon Lewis was trying and failing to look like he wasn’t afraid of her. The dork was obviously petrified. Smart.

Lydia had a black belt in judo. She’d started at age four and could kick Jace’s ass without breaking a sweat. Alec had seen it happen.

“All right, everyone. Listen up.”

Coach Magdalena clapped her hands loudly, drawing everyone’s attention as she strode up to the team. Her long auburn hair shone like fire against her dark brown skin and her voice was clear and hard.

“We don’t have time for chit-chat and chowder. District Tournaments start in three weeks, and I expect all of you to make it to the top of the list.”

“Not like all of us have to worry about it.”

The comment was mumbled just loud enough to reach Alec’s ears. It was the same every year. His hackles rose. Unlike every time before, Alec didn’t swallow it down.

“Shut up, Raj. Lydia’s never scored below 270. What was your best again? 150? 160, maybe?”

Raj Laghari was a snotty brat whose daddy owned a pharmaceutical company in Mumbai. He’d been giving Lydia crap ever since freshman year when he had found out there was a 4-female minimum to qualify for the championship competitions.

Raj laughed, drawing gnarly brown fingers through his gel-slick black hair.

“You don’t have to defend her, Lightwood,” he said loudly. “She’s not your fake girlfriend anymore.”

“She was never fake,” Alec snapped.

Lydia rose from the bench.

“Boys!” Coach barked. “Raj, you’re on bulls-eye targets with Matthi, Julian, and Ty. Alec, you, Lydia, and Simon can head over to the bag targets and work on your 25s. Alec, you have the whistle.”

He nodded and headed off to the other end of the gym. Lydia was hot on his heels.

“I don’t need you to defend me,” she said coldly.

“I know,” he said. “It’s still the truth.”

“All of it?”

Alec glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes.

Lydia Branwell didn’t do vulnerable. Her game face was more solid than Alec’s. She furrowed her brows and stared resolutely at the targets ahead of them. Her fist curled tightly around the grip of her compound bow, holding it against her thigh.

Just because he couldn’t feel the way a normal boyfriend would that didn’t mean he didn’t care about her. He had never meant for things to end the way they did. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant for things to end at all. At least, not purposely.

“I never thought of us as fake,” he said quietly. “If things had gone differently, we probably would have—”

“Don’t.” She whipped her head around to glare at him. “There’s no point. It’s done.”

Alec opened his mouth to say something else, but Simon Lewis had finally meandered over.

The dork stepped up to the shooting line, keeping an extra-safe distance between them.

Alec sighed and let it go.

Even though they were already on the line, he whistled two quick blasts through his teeth. He readied his bow, nocked an arrow, and watched Lydia and Simon do the same out of the corner of his eyes.

He whistled again, a single blast to indicate for them to start shooting.

When Alec retrieved his stuff from his locker after practice, there was a message from Magnus on his phone.

**Movie night @ Club Chaos. U r welcome to join. **

Alec stared at the words, uncomprehending.

When he had said he wanted to see Magnus, he had meant to have sex. A simple “I’m busy.” would have been disappointing, but Alec would have known how to take it. He had no idea how to handle this.

His gaze slid over to Simon Lewis who was packing up his gear a few lockers over. No doubt he would show up for movie night. The dork had also started dating Magnus’s previous fling, Raphael Santiago, which meant the hyper-aggressive guy would show up too. Catarina Loss would definitely be there.

Alec shook his head and put the phone down while he changed his clothes.

Why would Magnus suggest movie night, knowing he was inviting Alec into a den of wolves baying for his blood?

Catarina had had a personal vendetta against him ever since FF. Alec was ninety percent certain the problem was Izzy. Apparently, his drug addict sister was too big of a mess and needed to be dealt with before Catarina would allow Alec near her precious ‘magpie’.

Even trying to convince Loss that he could control Izzy had gotten Alec nothing but a swift punch to his face and a kick to the shin.

Raphael Santiago never looked further than five seconds from killing Alec when they saw each other at church on Sundays. Alec was one hundred percent certain that was the result of Simon Lewis blowing things out of proportion to his macho boyfriend about that one time Alec had tried to get the dork to relay a message to Magnus.

Magnus had never showed his face at the old stables that night. Alec had risked his perfect record, sneaking out after curfew and waiting for two hours before he sneaked back into his room.

It simply wasn’t going to happen. If Magnus thought he was being funny, it was best to just ignore the bait. Alec picked up his phone.

**No, that’s okay. C u tomorrow. **

He purposely didn’t make it a question. If nothing else, putting it down as a certainty should get Magnus to react. If he was trying to go back on their deal, Alec wanted to know sooner rather than later.

The response popped up while he picked up his dinner in the mess hall.

**Tomorrow. ** **Noon** **. My room.**

Alec almost laughed. He clenched his stomach against it and fought the knee-jerk impulse to text back he preferred pistols at dawn over a showdown at high-noon.

Rolling his eyes, he shoved his phone back into his pocket before he joined Izzy at their usual table.

“You’re in a good mood.”

Izzy’s chipper drawl froze the smile on his face. He hadn’t realized he’d let his game face slip.

Alec smoothed his expression, dropped his tray on the table, and sat down.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “And before you ask, yes, I took them.”

“Good,” she said.

After poking around in her salad for a few minutes, she looked up from under her lashes.

“Alec?”

He steeled himself for whatever she was going to say next. If she asked him not to leave her again, he wasn’t sure what he’d do this time.

Izzy poked around in her salad some more.

“I talked to Jace,” she said quietly.

Alec sucked in a breath through his nose and held it. He and Jace hadn’t talked to each other since Izzy’s overdose. Jace was too busy sticking to Clary Fray’s side like a lovesick puppy.

Alec’s gaze moved to the table where he had seen them last time. They weren’t there. That was probably because they were off somewhere, having perfectly romantic vanilla sex.

The thought made Alec’s stomach revolt. He made a disgusted noise in his throat.

Izzy took it as a request to keep talking.

“He asked me how you’re doing.”

Alec froze. Jace still cared. He probably shouldn’t, but he did, but not the way Alec wanted him to, and it made things so much worse. Getting words to come out of his mouth was like trying to make himself vomit by sticking his fingers down his throat.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him he should ask you.”

Alec released a trembling breath and nodded. He forced himself to say more words.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.” Izzy pouted glumly into her salad. “He did his thing.”

Alec squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and groaned.

Jace’s thing was the most frustrating thing that had ever existed.

Before Jace had found out by some twisted Hallmark-movie coincidence at age ten that he was actually a Herondale, he’d been fostered by a guy named Michael Wayland. Jace had never said much about the man, but Alec had always gotten the impression life with him hadn’t been fun.

Jace’s thing happened every time someone said or did something that hit a little too close to home. The door behind his mercurial eyes would slam shut. He’d purse his lips and then curl them in a sarcastic smirk. A careless little nod, like he’d been told something funny but inconsequential. Then he’d walk away and act like nothing had ever happened, but the door would stay shut.

Izzy pushed her plate aside.

“You should talk to him,” she said. “You guys are best friends. There has to be a way you two—”

“Izzy, don’t.” Alec hated himself for snapping at her, but he couldn’t stop it. “Just drop it.”

Izzy sniffed. Then she shrugged.

“I’m going to a party tonight,” she said curtly. “Are you coming?”

Alec was immediately suspicious. Magnus had invited him to movie night, which meant there wasn’t going to be a party at the old stables.

“What party?”

“Just some party in town. I’ll probably be back before curfew.”

“Not happening.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not letting you leave the grounds.”

“How are you going to stop me?”

“I’ll tie you down if I have to.”

“With what?”

Alec’s mouth was wide open and his lungs full of air, ready to tell Izzy exactly what kind of restraints he could get his hands on at a moment’s notice.

Instead, he snapped his mouth shut. His teeth gnashed together so tightly they squeaked. He forced himself to put his game face back on. 

“I’ll tell mother you’re flunking geography,”

Izzy’s eyes went comically wide in fear.

“You wouldn’t.”

It was insane. A part of Alec’s brain recognized that fact very clearly. In what kind of screwed up family was the idea of failing a freshman year class more terrifying than an actual drug overdose?

Their family, apparently.

“I won’t if you stay. Study hall is open until nine tonight. I’ll help you with it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Saturday at noon, Alec was nervous again. This time, it wasn’t because he was facing uncomfortable questions on the other side of the door. It was because Magnus had a frightening ability to look at him in a way that made Alec wonder if those gorgeous eyes could actually see through his game face right into his messed up brain.

He clenched his fist tighter around the crumpled wad of silk while he raised his other hand and knocked.

The door opened.

Magnus was wearing a ton of makeup again. His eyes were framed with kohl and smoky gray glitter. His lips gleamed dark with lipstick and sticky with gloss. His slinky silver-and-gold shirt was unbuttoned half-way down his chest, and his plum colored skinny jeans had more frayed holes than fabric.

Alec cleared his throat.

“Brought your shirt back.” 

It took him a second to unclench his fingers when he felt a tug on the crumpled silk between them.

“Thanks,” Magnus purred, sliding the shirt from his grip.

Alec’s gaze trailed the flowing motion that dismissed the costly garment to the floor with graceful indifference.

It took every ounce of his considerable willpower not to go after it, fold it up, and put it away properly.

The look on Magnus’s face made it clear that the bastard was well aware of that, too.

Alec exhaled a slow, controlled breath and stared him down.

“Kiss me.”

Magnus raised his brows. He moved slowly, deliberately, and raised his hand with the same graceful indifference that had discarded the shirt. His fingers slipped into Alec’s hair. No rings today.

Alec fought to keep his eyes open until their lips touched. Then the grip in his hair tightened and Magnus forced his tongue inside with a hard, insistent swipe.

It didn’t taste like sour candy, just sticky gloss and minty toothpaste. That disappeared, too, leaving scorching heat and merciless hunger. Sharp teeth scraped over the tip of Alec’s tongue and snapped brutally around his bottom lip before a wicked swipe took away the sting and Magnus’s tongue dove back in.

Alec’s hands scrabbled blindly for something to hold on to. Found it in the solid, rough surface of jean-clad shimmying hips. Lost it again when Magnus swiveled forward and crashed into him. 

Head swimming, heart pounding, and out of breath. A quick nip to his top lip and Alec’s vision returned to the sight of gorgeous eyes as cold as frozen earth less than an inch from his nose.

“Is that all you want today?”

Alec shook his head. His gaze drifted down and fixated on the sticky, dark lips. The flash of shiny teeth behind them.

“Bite me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Magnus sniffed, looked down, and shook his head with a chuckle. When he raised his head, his smile was sharp. His eyes gleamed.

“Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed. Face up.”

Alec stood frozen while the effect of Magnus’s expression coupled with that particular tone of voice rolled through him. Then he took off his shirt and folded it neatly before he placed it on the seat of the chintzy red chaise lounge.

Magnus snorted. “Anything that’s not off in five seconds stays on. Five. Four.”

Alec swore under his breath as he toed off his sneakers and ripped at his belt. 

“Three. Two.”

He shoved his jeans and boxer briefs down at the same time and just barely managed to take his socks off before Magnus finished counting down.

“Well done,” the bastard drawled.

Alec clenched his jaw and resolutely bent down to pick up the messy pile of clothes at his feet.

Magnus clicked his tongue.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

Alec huffed. A resounding crack across his left ass cheek jolted him forward and made him drop his jeans. The sting lingered.

“On the bed,” Magnus said calmly. “Now.”

Alec squared his shoulders and climbed onto the sheets. They were a deep burgundy, still warm, and they smelled like sage and musk. Like the shirt on the floor had used to. Like Magnus. Alec wanted to press his face into the silk-soft fabric until he couldn’t breathe.

He forced himself to turn around and lie on his back instead. The sting on his ass had faded to a tingle.

Magnus stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at him like a mythical creature of doom pinning its next victim.

“Hands above your head.”

Alec complied. He watched Magnus circle the bed and reach under it. His breath hitched when Magnus pulled out the restraints he’d bought at the sex shop. They hadn’t used them yet.

Alec remembered picking them up and staring at them, wondering what they would feel like. Excited but afraid. Before he’d been able to put them back down, Magnus had made the decision to buy them. 

These were nothing like their belts. They were wide and padded with thick foam on the inside, and once their leather straps were buckled, they would stay that way until Magnus decided to open them again.

Alec tried to control his breathing as the first manacle closed snugly around his wrist.

“No matter what,” he blurted. “You’re not going to storm off, right?”

Magnus stopped. He pulled back and placed one hand on Alec’s cheek.

“Color, Alexander?”

Scorching fingers cradled his jaw like something fragile. Alec turned his face. It was easier to stare at the crumpled pile of his clothes on the floor.

“Just promise you won’t—”

The fingers turned his chin. Soft, sticky lips cut off his grumble. The kiss was gentle. Too gentle. Alec made a noise of protest, but Magnus pressed his sticky lips more firmly to his mouth before he released him with a couple of soft pecks.

“I will not leave you alone. All you have to do is say ‘red’, and I’ll stop and take them off immediately. If you don’t want me to use them, just tell me now. So, I’m going to ask again. What’s the color, Alexander?”

Alec huffed out a long, frustrated breath through his nose and inhaled again before he trusted himself to say something without starting an argument.

“Green.”

“I’ll take you at your word.”

It sounded like a warning. The second manacle slipped around his other wrist. The chain that connected them looped through the metal grid of the headboard.

Alec lay still while Magnus moved down to his legs. He almost pulled away when the scorching fingers curled around his left ankle with a surprisingly hard grip before they slipped the padded manacle around it.

Magnus didn’t ask him for a color again, but the bastard took his sweet damn time fastening the restraints around both ankles.

The first bite took Alec by complete surprise because he’d been too busy scowling at the knockdown textured ceiling.

Sharp teeth sank into the fleshy part of his left calf and dug in.

Alec barked out a strangled yelp. His whole body pulled taut like a bow forced into a fresh string. The soothing lick of a warm wet tongue sent him back down to the mattress with a full body shiver. His eyes flew down his length.

Magnus was crouched between his knees with a devilish grin.

Blunt nails grazed down the back of Alec’s legs from the hollow of his knees to the top of the manacles around his ankles.

“Close your eyes,” Magnus drawled, “or keep scowling at the ceiling if you prefer.” The fingernails made a return trip to the back of Alec’s knees. “But no more peeking.”

Alec rested his head back onto the sheets and closed his eyes.

The next bite sank into the inside of his right thigh, just above the knee. Fire flared from the spot, radiating outward. His thigh muscle tensed, reflexively jerking away.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut tight and pushed his leg into the burning ring of razor-sharp teeth.

He was panting like a racehorse, trembling uncontrollably before Magnus finally slackened his jaw and swiped his tongue over the bite mark.

“Color?”

The rush chased the pain and the hot breath against his saliva-slick skin made Alec’s dick twitch and grow hard against the crease of his thigh.

“Green. Don’t Sto-Ah-Hngh!”

The inside of his left thigh, higher up. Shooting stars behind his eyes.

“Harder.”

The right side of his stomach, close to his hip bone. The inside of his thigh again. The instep arch of his right foot. His right calf. Right pec, above the nipple.

The pain flared like fireworks, unpredictable and fast. The soothing licks between made him shiver. His skin so hot and tight it felt fit to burst.

So close. So close.

The inside of his thigh. Silky hair brushing his balls next to a ring of razor-sharp teeth.

So close.

A scorching finger wet with saliva slipped through his crack and teased the rim of his hole.

Alec squeezed his ass tight and jerked away, hips as far off the mattress as the restraints would allow. The word ‘no’ at the front of his mouth with the tip of his tongue pressed right behind his teeth.

He choked it down and tried to relax, but his hips wouldn’t budge.

Magnus’s hand was still there. He could feel it between his legs, the sleek fabric of the shirt brushing against the tense skin on the inside of his thigh.

“Alexander?”

Funny how he was only ever Alexander when he had failed or disappointed.

“Color?”

Alec pressed his lips together and tried to breathe calmly through his nose. His skin was still hot and tight. He could feel every single bite on his body. He was still hard, aching for that one last sensation to push him over the edge.

This shouldn’t be any different.

It was.

It wasn’t the fingers he was worried about. It was what came after that scared him.

Alec remembered feeling like he’d been torn open and split apart from the inside. Pressure too hard to take. Everything too much.

His legs burned from holding the awkward position.

If he said “red”, everything would stop. If he said “green”, Magnus would keep going and tear him apart.


	18. Love Bites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel weird about this chapter. I'm not sure why. We're back in Magnus's head. Let me know what you think.
> 
> ###### 

Magnus slowly pulled back his hands and sat up between Alec’s knees. His jaw ached. His teeth hurt. His lips tingled. He was hard enough to punch through solid concrete from the noises Alec had been making until just a second ago. He had no clue what was happening right now.

Alec’s ass collapsed onto the mattress. He still hadn’t responded to the question.

“You’ll have to give me something, Alexander. At this point it’s obvious it’s not ‘green’ so what is it? ‘Yellow’ or ‘red’?”

Magnus hoped it wasn’t “red”. He had thought they were doing fine. To his own surprise, he’d really been getting into it.

“What?” Alec sounded confused. “Yellow?”

He sounded like he’d forgotten that was an option.

Magnus rolled his shoulders and took a couple deep breaths. His gaze flicked over the bite marks mottled all over Alec’s body. The plum colored lipstick stains made it hard to tell if they were fading the way they were supposed to. The trick was to bite down without sucking on the skin.

He gently placed his hand on Alec’s calf and used the pad of his thumb to rub off the lipstick around the first bite mark. The indentations from his teeth were still there, but they were getting weaker.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!”

The edge of desperation in Alec’s tone made his dick press harder against the inseam of his skinny jeans.

“Then what is it?”

Magnus wasn’t a total idiot. Obviously, things had crashed to a halt the moment he’d put his finger near Alec’s ass. He just had no idea why.

Alec blushed a gorgeous shade of crimson.

“Just, um…”

The suspense was killing Magnus. He slumped over Alec’s legs and busied himself with rubbing the lipstick off another fading bite mark.

“Yes?” he prodded.

“I don’t mind if you, um, use your fingers, but please don’t, um. Not your…”

Magnus’s brows flew up.

“Alexander, are you trying to politely tell me that you don’t want me to put my dick up your ass?”

Magnus could hear Raphael’s voice in his head admonishing him not to be crude. He wondered if there even was a way to politely phrase that request.

_Would you kindly refrain from inserting your penis into my rectum? _

Magnus stifled a snicker against Alec’s leg.

Alec’s whole body went rigid.

“Is that a dealbreaker?”

Magnus rolled his eyes. He wasn’t the one who had boasted about wanting to do everything shy of the most disgusting stuff on a long list of kinks. They were so going to throw out those stupid checklists and start over.

“Not for me,” he said honestly.

If Alec turned around today and told him all he wanted to do was make out, fully dressed, and no touching below the belt, Magnus would still be right here. Sure, he’d be jerking off like a fiend every day, fantasizing about doing more, but the painful truth was that Magnus just wanted to be with Alec any way that he would let him.

He nipped at an unmarked spot on Alec’s right calf. Alec twitched and pressed his leg closer, practically daring him to bite down harder.

Magnus pushed the heel of his palm against the crotch of his jeans and forced himself to release the skin between his teeth.

“I want to leave marks,” he admitted. “Is that okay?”

Alec groaned long and low and nearly kicked his teeth in, trying to force his leg back into Magnus’s mouth.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah. Just not anywhere someone might see.”

Magnus huffed. Of course, Alexander Lightwood wouldn’t want anything to ruin his perfect untouchable image. Magnus swallowed the bitterness in his throat and licked his lips.

“When’s the next time you have PE?”

“Monday.”

Magnus grumbled in frustration. “So anywhere below the neck and above the knees?”

Alec made another long, low groaning noise.

Magnus trailed his gaze up along the gorgeous pale body under his cheek and swallowed reflexively as his mouth watered.

Alec’s cock was hard. Really hard.

“Any…” Alec paused to clear his throat. “Any place I can hide under a T-shirt and boxer briefs.”

“Okay.”

That gave Magnus plenty of room to work with, and he was going to work every inch. It didn’t matter that nobody else would see it. He was going to leave marks. Enough of them that Alec would have no choice but to see, no way to deny what they were doing.

Magnus pounced, sank his teeth into the firm muscle high up on the top of Alec’s thigh, clamped down, and sucked hard.

Alec bucked into his mouth with a broken yelp that turned into a guttural moan.

Magnus kept sucking until he felt Alec’s leg start to tremble against his mouth. When he finally pulled back, the skin inside the dark blue circle of his teeth marks was a bright, angry red.

He grinned despite the uncomfortable stretch of his lips, picked his next target, and dove back in.

Spot after spot, bruise after bruise. His lips went numb and his jaw went from sore to throbbing, but he didn’t stop. He had planned to finish Alec off with a blowjob, but there was no way that was going to happen now. This was more important.

His cock pounded in time with his pulse inside the tight squeeze of his jeans. Magnus was pretty sure if he touched it, or even just pulled the zipper down, he’d explode all over himself.

Alec’s skin was mottled with vivid red bruises ringed by crooked circles from the indentations of Magnus’s teeth. The hickeys littered the top of his thighs, crawled low across his stomach from hip to hip, and scattered up along both sides of the trail of hair below Alec's belly button. 

Magnus shoved himself up higher. Whined at the rough drag of Alec’s thigh between his legs and the solid ridge of Alec’s hard cock pressed against the crease of his hip.

He nuzzled the wiry dark hair on Alec’s chest and inhaled sandalwood and musk. Tortured himself some more by rutting against Alec’s thigh. Flicked his tongue across both stiff pink nipples. Hovered just above the solid muscle of Alec’s left pec. Ripped his mouth open, sank his teeth in, and sucked his heart out.

Alec bucked. He thrashed and moaned like a dying thing. He pulled so hard on his restraints that the thin metal rods on the headboard bent out of shape around the chains. 

Magnus held on and rode the wave. His shirt rucked up. Alec’s cock pressed silk-smooth and impossibly hard against the side of his stomach. A shock of warm wetness spurted against his naked skin. Magnus bit down harder and came inside his jeans with Alec’s moan roaring in his ears.

It took him a minute to come back down to Earth. Even then, his legs were still wonky.

He walked the five steps from the bed to the closet as if the carpet under his naked feet was semi-solid jelly.

He managed to get his shirt off over his head, but bending over to wiggle out of his skinny jeans was so not happening.

“Magnus?”

Alec sounded confused again.

“Just a sec.” Magnus tossed the shirt into the hamper and stumbled through into the bathroom. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” A pang while his heart decided if it wanted to wrap around his guts or not. “Please don’t.”

“Very funny.”

Now he sounded peeved.

Magnus fished a washcloth from the stack beside the sink, turned the water on, and ripped his fly open. He cleaned himself up as quickly as he could. Then he grabbed a fresh washcloth and waited the extra twenty seconds for the water to actually turn warm before he soaked it. 

He stumbled back out of his closet with the warm washcloth, a clean towel, and the tube of arnica cream from the cabinet below the sink that he hadn’t thought he would need to use today.

Alec was still sprawled out on the bed, naked, gorgeous, a little crusted and covered in deep red love bites from his chest down to the top of his thighs. Also, scowling.

He glared at Magnus and yanked on his arms, rattling the chains. The metal rods on the headboard creaked. Alec was still tied up.

_Oh, right_.

“Sorry about that.” Magnus’s apology was sincere, but his voice came out a little slurred. “Hang on.”

It was probably bad etiquette, but he still didn’t untie Alec right away. Magnus cleaned him up first, toweled him dry, and dropped the used washcloth and towel on the floor. He could deal with those later.

“Do you feel okay?”

He took off one of the ankle restraints first and checked that it hadn’t left any bruises or scratches on Alec. There were pressure marks, but nothing that wouldn’t be gone in a couple hours.

Magnus popped the cap on the arnica cream and squeezed a little of the white ointment onto his finger.

Alec pulled back his leg before Magnus could touch his ankle.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Magnus scoffed. He was in no mood to fight.

“Yeah, I do,” he said bluntly. “Now, give me back your leg, or the other restraints stay on until I’m done with you.”

He held out his hand, palm up, and waited.

The sheets rasped loudly in the silence when Alec slid his leg back down until his ankle was just below Magnus’s hand.

Magnus sighed. He rubbed the ointment between his fingers and spread a little of it on the fading pressure marks.

“If I remove the other restraints now, are you going to let me finish?”

He felt like a goddamn kidnapper cajoling a hostage, but Alec hadn’t said “red”. As long as he didn’t use his safe word, he was okay with what was happening.

The fact that Magnus had to negotiate over aftercare, which was supposed to be a given, was just one more painful thing to add to an ever-growing list.

Alec cleared his throat.

Magnus looked up.

Alec’s eyes were fixated on the tube of arnica cream as if it was a deadly poison.

“What are you going to do?”

Magnus raised both brows.

“It’s arnica,” he said slowly. “It helps with the bruises.”

It wasn’t like Magnus wanted his bite marks to fade quicker, but he wasn’t going to let his own selfish desires supersede taking care of his partner. That was Alec’s job in this screwed up arrangement that was not a relationship.

Alec’s gaze shifted up from the tube to Magnus’s face.

Magnus hoped to hell his thoughts hadn’t been visible. He smiled.

Alec huffed. “Okay.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and removed the other ankle restraint. He added a little bit of the soothing ointment to the pressure marks. Then he climbed on top of Alec and leaned over him to remove the wrist restraints.

“Wait!”

Magnus froze with his fingers on the buckles. He looked down at Alec who was looking up at him with his stone mask firmly in place. Except his face wasn’t pale. It was about the same shade as a ripe Pink Lady apple.

“Leave them on. For now.”

It was Magnus’s turn to huff. A minute ago, Alec hadn’t been able to wait to get them off.

“Okay.”

Magnus removed his hand from the cuff and shifted back until he was kneeling between Alec’s legs again.

He picked up the tube of cream, popped the cap, and got to work on the bruises on Alec’s thighs.

Alec lay stiff as a board. The chain between the wrist cuffs rattled more than once before he settled down.

Magnus steadfastly kept his eyes on his own fingers and the small bruised patches of skin under them. He didn’t want to see the stone mask on Alec’s face right now. He definitely didn’t want to know what his own expression looked like.

He finished up with the bruises on Alec’s thighs and moved on to the belt of hickeys he’d left across Alec’s lower abs.

As soon as his fingertips grazed the first bruise, Alec sucked in his belly and bit off a grunt.

“Sorry,” Magnus blurted reflexively. “Does it hurt?”

He knew the reaction wasn’t from a chill, because he made sure to rub the cream between his fingers and warm it up before he touched Alec’s skin.

Alec made a stuttering humming noise in his throat and clenched his stomach. 

Magnus bit down on his bottom lip to stop himself from adding another hickey to the generous number he’d already left on those delectable abs.

Alec cleared his throat.

“It’s fine.” 

He still kept sucking in his stomach when Magnus’s fingers returned to tend to the bruises.

Magnus gritted his teeth and tried to be as gentle as humanly possible.

“It wasn’t supposed to hurt after,” he grumbled.

Clearly, the internet was a filthy rotten liar and couldn’t be trusted as a resource.

Alec choked on air. His stomach clenched even harder. He pulled on his restraints.

“It doesn’t,” he said tersely.

Magnus looked up with raised brows, ready to call him on his bullshit.

Alec wasn’t grimacing in pain or hiding behind a stone mask. The color in his cheeks had changed from Pink Lady apple to a shade of blush some people would pay good money to own.

Magnus felt Alec’s cock twitch and grow hard under his wrist.

“Oh.”

Magnus gulped and bit down harder on his bottom lip. If he made a flippant quip, would Alec snarl and demand to be set free? Probably.

If he threw himself on top of Alec, declared his love, and kissed him until neither one of them remembered how to breathe, would that get the same bad reaction? Definitely.

Magnus lowered his lashes, dropped his head, and went back to spreading the arnica cream over the bruises.

Alec’s stomach muscles relaxed and contracted over and over again under Magnus’s fingers.

He tried to ignore Alec’s erection, but that was just about impossible when it kept brushing over his skin every time Magnus shifted to tend to a different bruise.

He left the large hickey on Alec’s chest for last. It looked angrier than the rest despite the fact that it was hiding inside a nest of dark hair. It was pure dumb luck Magnus hadn’t broken the skin.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he blurted, feathering his fingers over the injured skin.

Alec made a strangled noise in his throat, squirmed, and shook his head. 

“Good,” he croaked. “It’s good.”

Magnus sniffed. It wasn’t good. He’d been dumb and reckless, trying to make a point that Alec couldn’t begin to guess.

He finished up as quickly as possible, climbed off the bed, and bent over to undo the wrist restraints without touching Alec any more than was necessary.

Alec sat up immediately and stretched his arms over his head with a languid groan.

“Here,” Magnus said, handing over the tube of arnica cream. “Keep it. Put some on your wrists, and make sure you reapply it until the bruises are gone.”

He turned around and zipped up his jeans. Then he took his sweet time trying to find a shirt when he could have picked any one of them from the closet floor. He didn’t want to watch Alec put his clothes on in a hurry and bolt out the door.

It was hard enough to listen to it. The grating rasp of long legs shoving into a pair of jeans followed by the jarring clink of a belt rapidly being buckled. The harsh snap when Alec shook out his shirt before he put it back on.

Alec cleared his throat.

“I should go.”

Magnus gritted his teeth and pulled his T-shirt over his head. It was a limited-edition VAST band shirt for their EP She is Murder. Magnus could appreciate the dramatic irony. He raised his head.

“You don’t have to.”

Alec shuffled on his feet. 

“I have a ton of revision work on my desk. Midterms are coming up.”

Magnus made himself turn around and look.

Alec hovered near the door with his arms crossed over his chest, the tube of arnica cream in one hand. His hair was mussed. His face was still a subtle shade of pink.

Magnus’s gaze involuntarily drifted down to the front of Alec’s jeans. He forced his eyes back up to Alec’s face. The offer slipped out before he could bite down on it.

“We could study together?”

_Desperate much?_

He’d do it. To spend time with Alec, Magnus was more than capable of sitting still for a couple of hours to go over skull-numbingly boring revision material. Maybe.

Alec blinked. His mouth opened and closed again. His arms uncrossed and hung loose from his sides. He cocked his head and looked at Magnus with crinkled brows.

“Yeah, right. Study,” he drawled with a smile that liquefied Magnus’s insides. “See you later, Magnus.”

Alec turned around and opened the door.

Magnus pasted a smile on his face and forced himself to sound casual.

“Sure, see you later, Alexander.”

Alec paused. His shoulders stiffened.

Magnus waited for him to turn back around and say something.

Alec shook off whatever it was and walked out the door.

The second the lock latched, Magnus whirled around and cursed under his breath.

“We could _study_ together,” he mocked himself, rolling his eyes.

Why did he have to keep trying? It was obvious Alec wasn’t looking for anything beyond their screwed-up deal. The only acceptable strings attached were mandatory therapy in exchange for kinky sex.

Except, apparently, Alec wasn’t actually interested in getting fucked.

Now that Magnus was no longer stupid with arousal that particular development made even less sense than before. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something to cause Alec’s reluctance.

Their first time together had been screwed up on so many levels. Alec had bolted immediately after and avoided him for days.

Magnus had never gotten a good explanation for that. He was afraid to ask. What if he’d sucked? What if he’d hurt Alec? What if the only reason why Alec had made the deal with him was because Magnus had inadvertently hurt Alec that first time?

His stomach cramped and his heart tied itself around his guts. He couldn’t think about this. He needed to get out of his head.

Magnus grabbed his phone and checked the time. It was just past one in the afternoon. He texted Catarina and Simon. He knew Raphael was still out doing his church thing at the retirement home.

**What u guys up 2?**

He put his phone down and wiggled out of his gross skinny jeans. They ended up in the hamper together with the T-shirt he’d only just put on. He dropped the used washcloth and towel from the floor on top and pushed everything down.

Magnus turned on the shower and went back to check his phone while the water warmed up. Cat’s response had come in first.

**Revision hell. Join me?**

The offer pushed a kneejerk grunt out of him. He wrinkled his nose. Simon’s response was a lot more palatable.

**Target practice in the back 40. Div tourn coming up. **

Watching Simon shoot at targets sounded at least a little fun. Maybe Simon would even let him try it. He quickly typed out his response.

**Firm nope on revision hell. **

**Can I stop by the back 40 and try my aim?**

Catarina’s immediate response was a string of emojis that roughly translated into calling him a lazy ass. Simon’s response took so long, Magnus gave up on it and climbed into the shower.

Naturally, his phone buzzed on the bathroom counter the second he was soaking wet. Magnus rolled his eyes and cleaned up in record time. He got out and checked his phone with one hand while he wiped off the remnants of his makeup with the other.

**Sure. C u on the range.**

He put on fresh eyeliner and dressed quickly in a pair of black jeans, a tight-fitting long sleeve tie dye shirt and his favorite burnt orange leather jacket. It was supposedly a women’s jacket, but it fit him like a glove and it had all the zippers. Magnus cared far more about zippers than he cared about labels. He shoved his fuzzy-socked feet into a well-worn pair of buckle boots and headed out the door.

Simon was the only one out on the target range when Magnus got there.

It wasn’t too surprising. November had turned on them like a jealous lover and slapped them in the face with an inch of snow followed by a solid three days of rain. Today it was just damp and cold, barely forty degrees. Magnus regretted not grabbing his ear warmers.

Simon wasn’t bundled up for the weather at all. Aside from his thick boots, he only wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a boring blue thermal with one of his band shirts over top of it. His jacket was slumped over his gear bag on the ground.

“How can you stand it?” Magnus grumbled as he strolled up behind him. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”

Simon fired his arrow before he turned around with a grin.

“You know that from personal experience?”

Magnus rolled his eyes. Then he grinned as a random memory came back to him.

“Funny story, actually. I met this pagan girl last year at a punk concert in Berlin. She had the coldest skin. It was like making out with an ice sculpture.”

Aside from that, she had been really cute. All shiny piercings and bright colors from her spiky mohawk down to her smiley-faced toenails. Magnus felt bad that he didn’t remember her name. It was possible that he’d never really known it. They had both been very, very drunk courtesy of the local alcohol laws.

“Seriously?” Simon chuckled. “Is there anything you haven’t done?”

Magnus huffed and shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket. He shrugged.

“Anything you’d see on the Hallmark Channel around Christmas.”

Simon raised his brows. “No long-lost family reunions or cheesy romantic get-togethers?”

“Thank God.” Magnus only half-pretended to shudder. It was far too cold for his liking.

Truth be told, he wouldn’t mind a cheesy romantic get-together. Hell, he’d settle for a cheese-less first date. Magnus sucked it up and squared his shoulders.

“So, tournaments?”

“Yeah.”

Simon pulled another arrow from his quiver, nocked it against his futuristic looking bow with the pulleys and wheels, and took aim at one of the big round bulls-eye targets that stood at least thirty feet away from them. He released his grip and the arrow zoomed off and hit the red part of the target.

“Nice shot!” Magnus complimented. 

“Eh.” Simon shrugged. “I gotta get my score up if I want to make it onto the list. Lydia and Alec’s scores are insane.”

Magnus hummed. Just hearing Lydia’s name next to Alec’s made the ugly monster in him rear its thorny head. He pushed it down and tried to brush it off with an airy comment.

“Why am I not surprised Alexander Lightwood excels at everything he does?”

Simon snorted and shook his head. “Not everything.”

It was obvious he was alluding to Alec’s less than stellar track record with Magnus.

Magnus rolled his eyes, pretending not to care.

“We can’t all have the perfect boyfriend,” he said waspishly. “Technically, I was forced to fall for someone else because you stole Raphael from me.”

“Excuse me?”

Simon lowered his bow and stared at Magnus aghast. His expression was comically offended.

Magnus snickered.

Simon narrowed his eyes. Then he squared his shoulders and raised his chin with a haughty expression.

“You never actually dated him.”

“I still saw him first,” Magnus needled.

“Yeah, but you didn’t call dibs, so.” Simon stuck his tongue out with a grimace.

“True.”

Magnus barely managed to keep a straight face when Simon gave him a ‘so, there’ nod and went back to target practice. Magnus watched him fire off a few more arrows before he got bored.

“Can I try?”

Simon turned around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, you were serious?”

Magnus shrugged. “If you don’t mind?”

“No, it’s cool. I’ll show you. Just be careful. The pull weight’s pretty heavy and your fingers are kinda dainty.”

“What?” Magnus’s jaw dropped.

“It’s not an insult. They just are. I mean, look at them.”

“I do not have dainty fingers.” He looked down at his fingers. The dark plum nail polish still worked with his new outfit, and he was wearing some of his favorite rings. “They are graceful and elegant and well-manicured.”

Simon snickered. “And sparkly. Don’t forget sparkly.”

“Shut up!”

Magnus smacked Simon’s shoulder with enough force to show him just how dainty his fingers were not.

Simon yelped, but he didn’t stop chortling, so Magnus smacked him a few more times for good measure.

“Now,” he said when he was done, “show me how to use this fancy contraption.”

“Okay, okay.” Simon stepped up behind him. “You’re a righty, right?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, come here.”

Simon maneuvered him like a mannequin. He grabbed his left arm and straightened it out before he pushed the bow into Magnus’s left hand and curled his fingers around the grip.

“You have to keep a straight line from shoulder to wrist,” Simon rattled off while he kicked the toe of his boot against Magnus’s left heel. “Widen your stance.”

When all was said and done, Magnus was standing with Simon right up against his back, his feet shoulder width apart, holding a bow with Simon’s left hand curled over his own, while Simon’s right hand rested on Magnus’s right shoulder.

“Why, Simon,” he purred. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to cop a feel.” 

“Yeah, right.” Simon scoffed. “We both know who’s the shameless flirt here.”

Magnus pouted. A few weeks ago, his comment would definitely have garnered him an awkward rambling stammer or at least a bright blush. Simon was getting immune to his antics.

“I’ve lost my touch,” he said woefully. “You didn’t even flinch.”

“Sorry?” Simon shrugged. “I guess it’s just not as effective when I know you don’t mean it.”

He softly patted Magnus on the shoulder and pulled an arrow from his quiver.

“Now focus.”

Simon helped him nock the arrow and aim at the target before he let go of Magnus and stepped back.

The string was heavy and it hurt a little bit against the ridges on his fingers. Magnus would die before he ever admitted that out loud. The arrow slipped twice before he got it to stay on the top of the tiny little arrow rest. He let it fly.

It hit the target in the second white ring, barely missing the edge of the first black ring.

“Check me out,” Magnus drawled proudly. “Got it on the first try.” 

Simon chuckled. “You did.”

Magnus turned around to face him and bowed with a flourish.

“Robin of Locksley, at your service.”

Simon laughed. “Yeah, you might want to practice a little more before you try stealing from the rich.”

Magnus straightened up with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

“Why would I bother?” He clicked his tongue. “I am rich. No need to steal, I’ll just share my wealth.”

“Good thing.” Simon grinned. “I’d shudder to think what would happen if you had to get by on your archery skills.”

Magnus threw up his free hand and grabbed his chest.

“So mean.”

“Wanna try again?”

“I insist.”

“Go for it.”

They rescued Catarina from the library just before dinner and met up with Raphael in the mess hall.

“I am an archer now,” Magnus announced grandly before he shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Raphael raised his brows at him and then turned his head to look at Simon who waggled his left hand in a “kinda-sorta” motion.

“Did he actually hit the target?” Raphael asked.

Magnus gasped. He couldn’t believe his cinna-bun doubted his skills. Not that Raphael had any reason to assume he was skilled at archery, but still, Magnus had expected a little more blind faith in him.

Simon snickered. “He did. More than once, actually, but I still had to pull a few arrows out of the dirt.”

Magnus sniffed. “I bet you didn’t do any better when you first started.”

Simon shrugged. “Fair point. It was fun, though. You were so determined. I hope you didn’t give yourself blisters.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes. He pointed a warning finger at Simon’s face.

“Don’t say it.”

Catarina was suddenly all ears. His best friend had a sixth sense for sniffing out embarrassing material to tease him. She sneaked a shifty look sideways at him before she leaned over the table to get closer to Simon.

“Don’t say what?”

Magnus sharpened his glare on Simon.

“Oh, nothing,” Simon said with a nonchalant shrug. “I was just worried that Magnus might have messed up his fingers. The bowstring can be tough on them when you first start out.”

Raphael made a humming noise in his throat. “Yeah, and his fingers are kinda dainty.”

“Shut up!” Magnus threw his dinner roll across the table at Raphael. “You two deserve each other.”

Catarina collapsed back in her chair, snickering.

“Don’t be cross, darling,” she purred, picking up his hand from the table. When Magnus tried to pull away, she clamped down like a vice. “Such delicate hands are made for loving not for fighting.”

She brushed a facetious kiss across his knuckles before she finally released him.

Magnus pulled his hand back and wiped it on his napkin.

“Bitch,” he said blandly without any real heat behind the insult.

Catarina chortled and threw her arm around his shoulders. She kissed his cheek and nuzzled his ear.

“You know you love me more than you can bear.”

He rolled his eyes because they both knew it was true. He was just grouchy because he was doomed. Cat would still be messing with him about his delicate hands when they were both ninety and racing each other in wheelchairs through the nursing home.

“They’re not dainty,” he grumbled.

Cat cackled into his shoulder.


	19. Straight Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back with Raphael. At this point, I just want to give a quick shout-out to [TobytheWise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobytheWise/pseuds/TobytheWise). I have taken a fair bit of inspiration from him for the way Raphael and Simon navigate the physical aspects of their relationship. Check out Toby's stuff if you haven't yet.
> 
> ###### 

Raphael woke up early on Sunday morning, feeling more than a little worse for wear. Magnus had thrown another impromptu party at the old stables last night, and Raphael had been dumb enough to let himself get talked into going.

Then Simon had pulled out his guitar and before Raphael had realized what was happening it had been two in the morning. To top it all off, he had almost gotten caught sneaking back into his dorm by Ms. Rouse. Now he was going to have to operate on four hours of sleep because he had to be at the chapel in thirty minutes.

Raphael cleaned up and got dressed. He bundled up in a heavy wool coat and scurried to get to the chapel on time.

Father Aldertree was already waiting for him in his office, pouring over his sermon.

“Good morning, Raphael.”

“Morning, Father.”

Raphael shoved his coat onto the rack and went right to his duties. He’d gone through the ritual enough times that he didn’t need to use any part of his brain. He recited his vestment prayers by rote without the mental faculty to feel guilty about it.

Father Aldertree held him back before they stepped out of the sacristy. His dark brown eyes searched Raphael’s face as if they were looking for something amiss.

“Are you sure you are ready to serve today, Raphael?”

Raphael forced a smile. “Of course, Father. I’m just a little tired that’s all.”

Father Aldertree made a skeptical humming noise in his throat, but he accepted the answer.

Raphael performed his duties with all the strength and dedication he could muster in his sleep deprived condition.

He couldn’t help the glare he shot at Alec Lightwood who was sitting in one of the empty pews toward the back.

There was no doubt in Raphael’s mind that Lightwood was just paying lip service. If the guy’s faith was true, Magnus wouldn’t be miserable because Lightwood wouldn’t be using Magnus to indulge in his selfish carnal vices.

Luckily, Raphael had a friendlier face to look at in the front row. Catarina smiled at him from her seat in the middle of the pew. She looked as tired as he felt.

Raphael had no idea where she’d found the energy to put on makeup and braid her hair. He’d barely managed to tame his curls with gel this morning.

Mass went by in a blur of routine motions.

Raphael was ready to head back to his room and sleep for at least a couple of hours.

Father Aldertree held him back before he could leave.

“Can I speak to you in my office for a moment?”

“Sure.”

He followed the father back into his office and sat down in the visitor chair in front of the ancient metal behemoth loaded with paperwork.

Father Aldertree settled behind his desk, folded his hands, and rested them on top of the mess.

“I’m worried about you, Raphael.”

The comment came as a surprise. Then again, Raphael’s brain hadn’t been all there this morning, so it was probably not really a surprise that the father was worried. This wasn’t like Raphael. He was usually wide-awake and ready for Mass on Sundays.

“I’m sorry, Father. I stayed up too late last night. It won’t happen again.”

“Are you sure that’s all it was?”

Raphael flinched. “What do you mean?”

“I did warn you before that your association with Magnus Bane was likely to lead you into trouble.”

Raphael opened his mouth and snapped it shut again. The instinct to defend Magnus was immediate, but he didn’t want to be disrespectful to Father Aldertree. He was in no state of mind to have this conversation.

Father Aldertree frowned deeply and pursed his lips inside his neatly trimmed beard.

“Raphael, I am truly concerned about you. I feel like I need to ask you this. Are you engaged in a sexual relationship with Magnus Bane?”

Raphael choked on air and barely managed to wheeze out, “No!”

He couldn’t believe Father Aldertree had asked him this.

Raphael’s eyes were wide open now, and he didn’t feel tired. He felt cold, shaky, and about ready to bolt out the door.

“No,” he said again, emphatically.

“With someone else then?” Father Aldertree pressed.

“No!” Raphael said again, even more emphatically.

His mind rattled through a litany of profanities that would have made Rosa proud, or maybe very mad at him.

_Why does everything have to be about sex?_

“Are you sure?” Father Aldertree asked with narrowed eyes.

Raphael’s hands clenched into fists on the arms of his chair. His patience was slipping through his fingers. If he allowed himself to say anything right now, it wouldn’t be nice or kind or Christian.

His relationship with Simon was not about sex. They weren’t doing anything wrong. If Father Aldertree wanted to point out Raphael’s sins, he would find Wrath was at the top of the list.

Raphael pressed his lips tightly together and kept his peace.

Father Aldertree sighed.

“Raphael, it is perfectly natural to stumble. You just have to allow the people who truly care about you to help you right yourself and return to the correct path.”

Raphael made himself nod once to indicate that he had heard what the father had said. He slowly uncurled his fingers on the arms of the chair.

“May I go now, Father?”

Father Aldertree didn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his expression.

“Yes, you are free to go.”

Raphael burst out of his chair and grabbed his coat. He shoved his arms into the sleeves as quickly as he could.

Father Aldertree’s voice stopped him with one hand on the door.

“Raphael?”

“Yes?”

“The next time you show up for Mass in the condition you were in today, I will not allow you to serve. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Father.”

Raphael hung his head. While he felt sincere remorse for showing up sleep-deprived, he was too angry right now to even attempt an apology. He left the office without another word.

Cold wind hit Raphael in the face as soon as he set foot outside the chapel. It aggravated his already foul mood. He just wanted to get back to his dorm room and sleep. Maybe clear until tomorrow morning.

“Hey, Santiago. Do you have a minute?”

Alec Lightwood’s voice raised Raphael’s hackles harder than the wind chill had done.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat, squared his shoulders, and set his jaw before he raised his head.

Lightwood was loitering at the junction to the main path. His long, dark coat hung open over his school uniform. A guy like him probably enjoyed the freezing cold.

Raphael strode toward the main path with every intention of walking right past him.

“What do you want?”

Lightwood raised both hands in a defensive gesture before Raphael got to him.

“I just want to clear the air.”

Raphael stopped short. He had no idea what he was supposed to make of that.

“Look,” Lightwood continued, “I’m sorry if I somehow offended your boyfriend. That wasn’t my intention, so I’d appreciate it if you could stop looking at me like you want to kill me whenever we run into each other.”

Raphael blinked. It took his tired brain a moment to connect the dots. His knee-jerk impulse was to correct Lightwood that Magnus wasn’t his boyfriend. Then he remembered Lightwood was well aware of that fact. Then it finally clicked who Lightwood was talking about.

It still felt odd to refer to Simon as his boyfriend. Simon was just Simon. Raphael didn’t need him to be anything other than that. It was everyone else who required that label slapped onto them in order to receive the basic courtesy of having their relationship respected.

Frankly, Raphael didn’t have enough energy for all the things that made him mad.

He raised his brows and dropped onto his back-foot.

“You think this is because of Simon?”

_Where do I even start?_

Sure, Raphael remembered the incident Lightwood was referring to. He had definitely been pissed when the guy had had the cojones to corner Simon to make him deliver a message to Magnus. However, Simon had asked him to drop it, so Raphael had dropped it.

That had been weeks ago.

The much bigger, ongoing issue was Magnus.

Lightwood, apparently, didn’t have the brains to realize it, or maybe he just didn’t have the conscience to care.

“You are the most…”

Raphael cut himself off. He clenched his jaw and focused his gaze on something other than Lightwood’s puzzled frown before he made the mistake to plant his fist in it. When he managed to look back at the guy, he didn’t bother to hide his disgust.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, pointing two fingers at his own chest. “Easy.”

The second that Lightwood stopped hurting Magnus, Raphael would happily stop giving two shits about the guy’s existence.

“You stop, and I’ll stop.”

Lightwood’s face screwed up in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Raphael had a flashback to Isabelle Lightwood’s face at the Fall Formal when he had questioned her about what drugs she had given to Simon. He growled in his throat and sucked in a deep breath.

_One more time for the idiot in the back._

“Stop messing with Magnus.” Raphael barely stopped himself from shouting. “Find someone you actually care about, and just leave my friend alone.” 

He smacked the guy’s shoulder in lieu of punching him in the face and walked away.

Lucky for both of them, Lightwood didn’t call after him.

A knock on his door woke Raphael from a dreamless sleep. He had passed out as soon as his body had hit the mattress when he had gotten back from the chapel.

“Who is it?” he grumbled, reaching over to check his phone.

“It’s me.” Simon sounded worried. “Can I come in?”

Raphael had missed several text messages, and it was well past 2:00 pm.

He dropped his phone back on the bedside table with a groan and rolled over onto his back.

“Yeah, come in.”

The next time Raphael cracked his eyes open it was to the sight of Simon hovering at the foot of his bed with a serious frown.

“Are you okay?” Simon shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shifted on his feet. “Cat said you didn’t look so hot at church this morning, and then you didn’t answer any of our texts or show up for lunch.”

Raphael sniffed. “Someone kept me up until 2:00 in the morning last night,” he said with a glare that was only half-serious. “And unlike you, I had to get up four hours later to get ready for Mass. I pretty much passed out the second I got back here.”

“Oh,” Simon said with a toothy grin. “Right. That makes sense.”

Raphael raised his brows. “You’re not going to apologize for keeping me up until the early hours?”

Simon clicked his tongue and shrugged. “Late nights come with the territory when your boyfriend’s a musician.”

Raphael groaned and dropped his head back on the mattress. There was that word again. Simon seemed to get a kick out of it. His grin turned three shades brighter every time he used it.

Raphael smirked. “Don’t suppose you brought some coffee?”

“I could get you some?”

“No!” Raphael raised his hand before Simon could run off to make good on his offer. “It’s okay.” He almost called Simon puppy. “Stay.”

Simon chewed on his bottom lip and looked around the tiny room before his eyes settled on the bed. He made a vague gesture.

“Is it okay if I sit down?”

Raphael raised his head with furrowed brows. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“No particular reason.” Simon flapped his hands. “Just being polite.”

“Uh-huh.”

Raphael’s brain was not alert enough to investigate further. He always ended up a little on the slow and grouchy side when he slept during the day. 

Simon belly-flopped onto the mattress, almost crushing Raphael’s legs in the process, and took up a ton of space.

“Hi,” he said with a bright smile, wagging his brows.

It reminded Raphael so much of his old neighbor’s golden retriever that he couldn’t help but snicker.

“You looking for treats?” he joked.

Simon shrugged, bracing his head on one hand. “I wouldn’t mind a kiss.” 

Raphael paused.

This was the first time Simon had asked for a kiss since Halloween. He wasn’t even sure if the request was totally serious. Simon had phrased it in a way that Raphael could brush it off without feeling bad about it.

He rolled his eyes, leaned over, and pressed a quick peck to Simon’s lips.

Before he could pull back again, Simon leaned in and returned the gesture in the same fashion. 

Raphael froze.

Simon pulled back. “Was that not okay?”

The answer to that question was probably a lot longer and more complicated than Simon expected.

Raphael sighed.

“It’s okay,” he said slowly. “As long as you don’t expect…”

Simon shook his head rapidly like he didn’t even want to hear what came next.

“No expectations, I swear.”

Surprisingly, it turned out that it was okay. The kissing wasn’t really doing anything for Raphael, but he liked having Simon close and happy and quiet in a good way.

It was all good until he felt Simon’s erection poke him in the hip. That made Raphael feel like he had to put a stop to things before they got out of hand. 

Simon was immediately contrite.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. It’s just you’re insanely hot, and a great kisser, and I’m just, um, easily excited, I guess? I’m so sorry.”

Simon had backed up against the wall so far it looked like he was physically trying to merge with it. He radiated embarrassment and remorse.

It made Raphael feel like a heel in ways he had never anticipated.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he grumbled, trying to get past his own mortification.

This was not at all what he had thought would happen. In retrospect, he should have expected that much. Simon rarely did what anyone would expect him to do in any given situation.

Simon sucked his cheeks in and looked everywhere except at Raphael. His foot started bouncing at a mile a minute.

“So,” he said, “you never, um, I mean, do you ever, um…”

Raphael hooked his foot over Simon’s ankle to keep him still.

“What?”

Simon made a quick hand-motion toward the tented crotch of his jeans.

“Of course,” Raphael snapped. “It still works. I’m just not, you know…”

This was the most embarrassing moment of his life. He could feel the lava crawl up over his face and burn him alive.

“It’s annoying more than anything,” he admitted through his teeth.

Simon puffed his cheeks out with a long breath and nodded. His ankle was still trying to bounce.

“Do you ever, um, have to take care of it?”

“Dios mío, are we really...”

Raphael couldn’t believe they were actually having a conversation about this. If it was anyone other than Simon, Raphael would have already thrown them out of his room.

Simon chewed on his lips and rolled his eyes around the room.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he stammered. “I’m sorry. It’s way too personal. I shouldn’t’ve--”

Raphael scoffed in wry amusement. “A second ago, you were humping my leg, but this is too personal?”

He snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Simon’s face turned redder than Raphael’s face felt.

“You don’t have to make fun of me,” he mumbled.

Raphael winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just…” He stared hard at the bedspread between them. “I’ve never really talked about that kind of stuff. With anyone. It’s … not easy.”

Simon snorted. “You’re not the one who can’t control his primal instincts around his boyfriend.”

Raphael chuckled. “I think you’re controlling them just fine.”

Simon was still pretty much trying to become one with the wall behind him, putting as much space between them as was physically possible on a twin-sized bed.

Raphael sighed. “I sometimes have to, um, take care of things, but it’s …” He bit his lip, trying to find the words to talk about this without spontaneously choking on them. “It’s kind of like blowing my nose?”

“What?”

Simon’s brows furrowed over his crinkled nose as his upper lip curled in a baffled grimace.

It was really cute.

Raphael cleared his throat and cringed his way through the explanation.

“You know, when you get that persistent tickle, and you blow your nose so you don’t end up sneezing your germs all over the place.”

Simon snickered and nodded and snickered some more.

It made Raphael’s chest feel funny. He couldn’t quite name it, but it was funny in a good way. It made him feel like he could tell Simon anything, even the stuff he was afraid to talk about.

Simon clapped his free hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he apologized sincerely. “Sorry, you probably didn’t mean for that to be funny.”

“It’s okay.” Raphael couldn’t help but smile. “It was a pretty weird metaphor. At least, I didn’t use ice cream.”

Simon’s cute baffled expression made a return. “Huh?”

Raphael smirked. “When I tried to explain to Magnus why you and me getting together was hopeless, we got stuck in this awful metaphor about different flavors and types of ice cream.”

Simon’s expression fell. “You thought us getting together was hopeless?”

Raphael shrugged. His eyes went back to the sheets. “I’m worried you’ll grow tired of wanting more than I can give.”

“Dude, no.” Simon shook his head. “That’s like…” He trailed off with a grimace. “I’ve always wanted a Les Paul Custom, but I’m not going to be disappointed if I get a Standard instead. I’d have to be an idiot.”

Raphael’s brows furrowed. “Guitars?”

Simon nodded. “Electric Guitars.”

Raphael rolled his eyes, struggling to keep a straight face. “We gotta stop with the metaphors.”

Simon grinned, but then his face turned serious. He took a deep breath and shifted his leg. Raphael’s ankle was now trapped between both of Simon’s.

“Okay, straight talk?” he said, eyes open and clear and focused behind his dorky glasses. “I’ll probably always want to do stuff that you don’t care about, but I would never, ever want you to do any of that stuff with me if you don’t want to do it, too.”

Raphael swallowed. He wasn’t sure what to say. He was relieved when he didn’t have to say anything, because Simon kept talking.

“But you have to let me know, okay?” Simon lowered his chin and his ankle started to bounce again. “Because I’m shit at reading minds. Believe me, I’ve been working on the Vulcan mind-meld since I was five. Still can’t do it.”

Raphael sniffed and reversed the position of their ankles again, holding Simon still.

“Is this your nerdy way of saying you want me to tell you when to stop?”

“Yes.” Simon looked down. “Also, maybe, tell me what’s okay ahead of time, so I don’t do something that’s gonna skeeve you out.”

Raphael grimaced. “What if I’m still figuring that part out?”

“Okay,” Simon said, shrugging his free shoulder. “I guess then we’ll just play it by ear.”

“Metaphors.”

“Oh, come on. How else was I gonna phrase that?”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Fair enough.”

“Speaking of,” Simon said with a frighteningly eager smile, “did I tell you the new State to State album is coming out on Tuesday?”

Raphael’s brows flew to his hairline at the rapid change in topic. He was still learning how to follow the breadcrumb trails between Simon’s seemingly disconnected thoughts.

“About half a dozen times so far,” Raphael said with a smirk.

Simon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, but I know I didn’t tell you that they posted a sneak peek on their website this morning and it was amazing.” 

Monday evening after dinner, Raphael dragged his feet on his way to the chapel. He had a feeling Father Aldertree wouldn’t let things go easily. It didn’t help that Raphael still hadn’t made up his mind about joining the seminary.

Things were even more complicated now because of Simon. They weren’t just friends. That much was obvious after yesterday afternoon. As much as Raphael wanted to cling to the idea that certain things were never going to happen, he couldn’t lie to himself. It mattered too much.

Father Aldertree was in his office, buried in paperwork as per usual, when Raphael arrived.

“Good evening, Father.”

“Good evening, Raphael. You look better rested today.”

Raphael’s shoulders pulled tight. “Thank you,” he said politely. “I am.”

“I have a new project for you if you’re interested. Nothing as involved as the book drive, I promise.”

“Sure,” Raphael said with a shrug. “How can I help?” 

“It’s about the leaflets for the Thanksgiving event at the local soup kitchen. We already have the file, but they need to be printed and put together by Friday. Do you think you can manage?”

“Of course, Father.”

“Good,” Father Aldertree said with a nod. “I will send you an email with the file and copy Miss Grey.”

Raphael accepted with a nod and went to his other duties.

The thought of Thanksgiving put a cramp in his stomach. It was one of the holidays where his mother would go a little extra crazy with the food, and Raphael somehow had always gotten dragged into helping her.

If he was honest, he hadn’t minded. Between sitting next to his father swearing a blue streak at the television or sitting in the kitchen, peeling apples for the salad, Raphael had chosen the apples every year.

Not this year. Not ever again.

Raphael wiped at his face and tried to push the thought away.

He had no idea what to expect going forward. He knew the school was on break for the entire week around Thanksgiving, but so far, he hadn’t even heard from Camille. He didn’t want to call her to find out. A part of him was purposely pushing it off to see if Camille would even remember his birthday.

The next day, Raphael was still morose by the time lunch rolled around. Alicante’s sad excuse for tacos did not improve the situation in the slightest.

A tray with a plate of mushy taco salad dropped down next to his on the table. Magnus flung himself into the chair next to him and grabbed his arm.

“Save me,” he wailed dramatically, digging his skinny fingers into Raphael’s bicep. “She won’t stop.”

A second tray clattered down on Raphael’s other side. Cat plopped into the chair and glared around Raphael at Magnus.

“He’s been trying to weasel out of revision for two weeks now,” she said, holding up two long, dark brown fingers with shiny raspberry-colored nails. She crooked them for emphasis as if she was ready to poke out Magnus’s eyes with them. “If you don’t start studying soon, I’m going to have to sit on you. You do not want me to have to sit on you again.”

“But it’s so boring,” Magnus groaned, dropping his head on Raphael’s shoulder before he looked up with a puss-in-boots pout. “Tell her she can’t make me, cinna-bun.”

Raphael scowled. “It’s your midterms, Magnus.”

“But I’m rich!” Magnus whined. “I don’t have to be studious.”

Raphael raised his brows. “Sure, you don’t. If you want to rely on your father’s money forever.”

Magnus made a face as if Raphael had stuck a lemon in his mouth.

“That was a low blow,” he grumbled.

Raphael crossed his arms. “Do the work. How bad can it be?”

“Boring,” Magnus groaned again.

“Necessary,” Cat groaned back, exaggerating Magnus’s tone. “It’s your future, magpie. You know colleges can rescind your admission if they see your senior grades went down the drain.”

Magnus huffed. “If Simon was here, he’d agree with me.”

Raphael scoffed. “He wouldn’t. We’ve already set up a study plan. I’m helping him with physics and math.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. His fingernails were sparkling silver today. “Spoilsports. All of you.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed in warning. “Magnus.”

“Fine!” He crossed his arms with a huff. Then he uncrossed them and pointed his sparkly index finger past Raphael in Cat’s face. “Two hours, every other night. That’s all I’m willing to invest.”

“Fine!” She stuck her hand out.

“Fine!” Magnus shook on it.

His face was still stuck in pouting puss-in-boots mode as he started digging into his taco salad.

“I love you,” Cat drawled facetiously and blew Magnus a kiss past Raphael.

“Don’t try to suck up now,” Magnus grumbled, but he pretended to catch the kiss anyway.

Raphael shook his head and shoved a bite of soggy, bland taco into his mouth to stifle a chuckle.

Since Magnus and Cat were busy with their first revision session, Raphael only had Simon to help him with the leaflets for Thanksgiving at the soup kitchen. Simon had made a detour to his room after dinner and had showed up at the Admin Building twenty minutes later with a large bag of barbecue chips and two bottles of soda.

They were back in the same conference room they had used to sort through the book donations. Two large stacks of printed green paper sat on the table between them.

“So,” Simon asked, taking one of the leaflets Raphael had folded to staple it, “are you actually going to be around for this?”

“I don’t know,” Raphael said with a shrug.

He really didn’t want to talk about his plan or lack thereof for Thanksgiving. He’d been trying to distract himself from thoughts about his family all day.

“What about you?” he asked quickly. “Are you going home for the break?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah. We do the whole turkey and mashed potatoes thing. We’ll have Clary and her mother over. It’s a good excuse to get everyone together and eat way too much food.” Simon took another folded leaflet and focused very hard on where he placed the stapler. “You know, there’s always room for one more at the table if you don’t plan on going home.”

Raphael swallowed. There was no home for him to return to. Just the thought of having to deal with the holiday in any kind of way made his stomach feel like it was filled with ice. He didn’t think he could make it through, surrounded by not just one but two happy families.

“Thanks for the offer,” he said with a nod. “I’ll let you know.”

He caught the disappointment in Simon’s eyes, but he didn’t have it in him to explain. Instead, Raphael tried his best to stop his bad mood from jumping onto Simon. He slid his boot forward under the table until it connected with the inside of Simon’s sneaker.

“So, that new album that came out today,” he asked, knowing what he was setting himself up for. “Did you get it yet?”

Simon’s head popped back up with a smile.

“Yes!” he hissed excitedly. “I downloaded it this morning. It’s just as amazing as I hoped.”

For the next two hours, Raphael listened to Simon go on about the music without taking a breath: the influences, the sound, the lyrics, the arrangement.

Raphael didn’t understand half of it, but he found himself inexorably wrapped up in Simon’s unbridled enthusiasm.

The morning of his birthday was cold, wet, and dreary. It fit perfectly with Raphael’s mood. It was also Wednesday, meaning a double in AP Physics with Ms. Graymark, followed by the annoying Econ teacher who still hadn’t given up on becoming everyone’s best pal.

Raphael was actually relieved when the bell rang for his lunch period. The feeling didn’t last long. He was halfway between the Science Building and Lightwood Hall when his phone went off with a blast of notifications. Raphael pulled it out to check it and stopped in the middle of the path with raised brows.

Camille had sent him a text message.

He did not believe for a second that she had remembered his birthday on her own.

**Booked your flights. See emails for itinerary and schedule for ThxGiv. Bring suit. **

**Also, holiday party in NYC on Dec 12. **

Raphael stared at the lines of text.

He closed his messaging app and opened his emails.

Two of them were forwarded from the airline, confirming reservations for flights to New Haven at the end of next week and New York in December.

Another email confirmed hotel reservations for one night in New York.

The final email came from a name he didn’t recognize. It turned out to be one of Camille’s political aides.

Attached was a detailed schedule for the days around Thanksgiving, including an hour-long appearance at a soup kitchen in New Haven for a photo op. A second attachment was an email with the invitation to the fancy party in the city.

No mention of his birthday.

Raphael’s eyes stung. He went back into the messaging app and responded with the only thing he could think to say.

**K. Thx.**

He decided to skip lunch and headed back to his dorm. He didn’t want to see anyone right now. At least, not until it was time to meet Simon at study hall.


	20. Faith and Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back with Simon and this is ... shmoopy? I guess. Enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback and kudos. I can never get enough. Let me know what you think.
> 
> ###### 

Being Raphael’s boyfriend felt a little like living in a really good dream. They spent almost all their free time together. Simon had even volunteered to help with Raphael’s church-stuff yesterday.

Two hours printing, folding, and stapling leaflets wasn’t wasted time when Simon got to talk about the new State to State album and watch Raphael go from grumpy and mildly annoyed to sincerely amused and happy.

Their midterms were coming up in five weeks, too, which meant they were going to spend even more hours together in study hall, doing revision.

Raphael was a whiz in math and physics. Simon wished he could sneak a pocket-sized version of his boyfriend into his exams, because everything made sense when Raphael explained it, but the moment Simon was on his own, the equations in his books turned back into indecipherable gobbledygook.

Simon’s frustration with the subject must have been rubbing off on Raphael. When he showed up for their study session, his expression was murderous.

Simon blinked and tried to ignore the paranoid feeling in his stomach. It helped when he felt Raphael’s heavy shoe slide between his sneakers and tap lightly against his bouncing ankle.

“Are you okay?” Raphael rumbled.

Simon nodded and smiled. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said. “What’s with the murder-face?”

Raphael made a grumpy noise. “I just got a text from Camille.”

“Your aunt?”

Raphael didn’t talk much about his family, and Simon didn’t ask. He knew all about keeping painful stuff hidden in a corner where it was easier to ignore. The only things he knew about Raphael’s aunt were that she was a senator and that she had sponsored the Fall Formal.

Raphael repeated the grumpy noise. “She sent me the itinerary for Thanksgiving. Oh, and she expects me to go with her to some fancy holiday gala in New York next month.”

“You don’t want to go?” Simon asked cautiously.

When he had offered Raphael to come visit him in New York for Thanksgiving, Raphael hadn’t sounded interested. Now it seemed like he wasn’t thrilled about going home to his aunt, either.

Raphael glowered. “I’d rather eat a box of Twinkies.”

Simon winced. He was well aware how much Raphael hated anything sugary sweet.

He didn’t know what exactly the problem was, but he could tell it was making Raphael upset. His face was still stuck in the murderous scowl that usually only made an appearance when the subject of Alec Lightwood came up.

Simon desperately wanted to do something to make it better. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about Thanksgiving at this point.

“I could come with you to that party in December?”

“No.”

Simon flinched.

Raphael had shut him down as soon as he’d finished the question. He hadn’t even bothered to thank Simon for the offer this time.

Was the idea of taking him along really that repulsive? Sure, Simon was a klutz, and maybe he wasn’t used to rubbing elbows with the glitz and glam, but he knew how to behave himself in good company.

Did Raphael not want him to meet his family? Was their relationship one of those things that was okay at school but not in the real world? Was Raphael ashamed of him?

Simon pulled his feet back and crossed his ankles tightly under his own chair. He dropped his eyes to the school work in front of him.

“Oh, okay. I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” Raphael growled. “She’s evil.”

Simon’s gaze snapped up.

Raphael’s expression was deadly serious and he was glaring so hard it should have burned holes into Simon’s eyes.

“That woman is a nasty, evil piece of work,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you anywhere near her. Ever. She’s a stone-cold bitch who would do anything, sacrifice anyone, for money and power. Heaven knows what she’d do if she got her claws in you. I’m not letting that happen.”

Simon was stunned. Raphael was trying to keep him away from his aunt to protect him.

A part of Simon’s brain was laughing hysterically because that just added to the whole mob boss persona that Raphael exuded most of the time.

Apparently, Simon was Apollonia to Raphael’s Michael Corleone. The thought of what had happened to Apollonia quickly sobered him up.

“Then why are you going?” he asked.

Raphael sighed. “I don’t really have a choice. She’s in charge of my inheritance until I turn eighteen. If she wants to, she can make my life a living hell, so I have to play along.”

Simon uncrossed his feet and hooked his ankle back around Raphael’s under the table.

“That sucks,” he said sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Raphael grumbled with a shrug. “She probably just wants to show me off as her big charity project: the poor little orphan boy that she took in out of the goodness of her heart.”

Simon scoffed and rolled his eyes. Raphael had money. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to blow a couple thousand dollars on a new wardrobe a week before FF. Not to mention, he looked like a movie star, almost as tall as Simon, but with broad shoulders and a nice firm— Simon cut off the thought before it could get him in trouble.

“There’s nothing ‘poor’ or ‘little’ about you.”

“True.” Raphael raised one eyebrow. “But how would you know?”

Simon felt heat engulf his face and blaze all the way through his hair.

“That’s not… I meant… You’re not … I wasn’t…” He dropped his burning forehead onto the papers in front of him. “I hate you.”

He didn’t really. He was glad that Raphael felt comfortable enough to joke with him about sex stuff. Still, it was embarrassing as hell that Simon was the only one who got affected like that in their relationship.

Raphael chuckled. Then he sighed.

“She didn’t even have the decency to wish me a happy birthday.”

Simon’s head snapped up again as surprise tossed his embarrassment right out the window.

“It’s your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It doesn’t really matter.”

“It so does.”

Birthdays were a little bit of a thing in the Lewis family. They usually involved cake, tons of silly photos, and more family time than you could shake a stick at if his sister, Becky, was around for the occasion.

In fact, this year had been one of Simon’s most disappointing birthdays. If it hadn’t been for Maia, he would have totally written it off.

“I’ll take you out this weekend,” he promised. “We can make up for my birthday, too. There’ll be cake and everything, I promise. Whatever you want. It’ll be your day.”

Raphael looked uncomfortable. He averted his gaze and stared at his hands on the table with a grim expression.

“I’d rather not,” he grumbled.

Simon blinked. Shook his head. He didn’t get it, but he could tell it was bothering Raphael. He reached out across the table and laced his fingers through Raphael’s, squeezing them gently.

“That’s okay, too,” he said sincerely. “Whatever you wanna do.”

Raphael nodded and looked up with furrowed brows. “When was your birthday?”

“October 17th.”

Simon hoped Raphael wouldn’t do the math in his head. That stuff was behind them now, and there was no need to keep dragging it back up.

“Why didn’t you… Oh.” Raphael scowled and clenched his jaw. His cheeks were tinged red with embarrassment cosplaying as anger when he snarled through his teeth, “I’m sorry.” 

Simon smiled, but it felt more like a cringe. He shrugged. “It’s okay. I went to the movies with Maia. It was pretty good actually. We saw— Ouch!”

He tried to pull his fingers out of Raphael’s white-knuckled grip. Simon had dragged Raphael’s arm almost all the way across the table before he gave up. He rolled his eyes.

“You know, you really have to stop being jealous.” He huffed out a sigh. “We’re just friends. She’s my sage Auntie Maia with the good advice. She knew you liked me back before I did. In fact, if it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to come after you with that muffin.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “That was her idea?”

“No, but she bullied me until I actually got up and did it.” Simon grinned. “And! And!” he stressed. “If it wasn’t for her idea with the whole Bonnie and Damon thing, you would have never had the guts to confess to me.” He nodded victoriously. “I think you owe her.”

Raphael made a grouchy noise. “Remind me to send her a fruit basket.”

Simon snickered. “I think she’d prefer a gift card for the mall. She was seriously hung up on that one mini-dress— Ouch. Again?”

It was funny, but it was exasperating, too. He didn’t understand why Raphael got so jealous. There was no one else Simon wanted to be with. Nobody made him feel like Raphael did, and the grouch did it without even trying.

“Seriously.” Simon closed his eyes and huffed out a long, vibrating breath through his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“I am?” Raphael’s tone was incredulous.

“You are.” Simon opened his eyes with a grin and pulled his hand free. “Now explain that thing with the integers again.”

After study hall, Simon sat through his last class of the day with an overloaded brain. He barely paid attention, his leg going a mile a minute under the table with the need to move and do something other than thinking. He burst out of his chair the second the bell rang.

Archery practice was a welcome relief. Until Simon noticed that Alec Lightwood kept staring at him.

Alec wasn’t being subtle about it, either. He just kept looking at Simon from the other end of the shooting line like he wanted to say something, but then he never did.

It was messing with Simon’s nerves and ruining his aim. When Simon finally couldn’t take it anymore, he made himself walk up to Alec and ask.

“What?”

Alec froze. “What?”

Simon tapped his bow against his leg, shoved his glasses up his nose, and braced his free hand on his hip to keep it from flapping around.

“You keep looking at me like you want to say something, and then you don’t, so what is it?”

Alec scowled at Simon before he turned around to look at the rest of the archery team.

Matthi and Julian stood way down the shooting line, busy taking shots at the bag targets. Raj, Lydia, and Ty were clear on the other end of the gym, practicing on the bulls-eye targets with Coach Magdalena yelling over their shoulders.

“If you want to make the team, you can’t do anything half-assed. You have to put your whole ass into it.”

Simon snickered. He had no idea how the coach got away with saying half the stuff she did.

Beside him, Alec cleared his throat. “I need to ask you something about Magnus.”

Simon snapped his head around so fast he nearly broke his own neck.

Alec stood stiff as a rod with his bow clenched in his left fist. He wasn’t actually looking at Simon. He was staring somewhere over Simon’s shoulder with a look of bland indifference on his face. It reminded Simon uncomfortably of the Terminator.

“Why me?”

The question had slipped out before he could stop it.

Alec shrugged one shoulder mechanically, not really helping to dispel the emotionless killer robot vibes.

“Catarina Loss hates my guts,” he said calmly, “and Raphael would still brush me off if he was on fire and I had the only water in the state. You’re the weakest link.”

Simon’s brows flew up. “You know, he would kill you if he heard you call me that.”

Alec grimaced, finally losing the robot look, and stared at him. “Did you just threaten me with your boyfriend?”

“No! I don’t…” Simon trailed off with a frustrated growl.

He didn’t need Raphael to protect him. Being over-protective was just a part of Raphael’s personality.

“Just stating a fact,” Simon said pointedly. “I’m not weak, and if you want something from me, you should probably start being nice.”

He had no idea what Alec could possibly want to ask him that he couldn’t just ask Magnus directly. Simon still didn’t get the whole picture of their messed-up hot-and-cold relationship. The only thing he knew for sure was that Alec Lightwood had already screwed up more than once and somehow kept hurting Magnus’s feelings.

Alec clenched his jaw. “Never mind.”

He pulled an arrow out of his quiver and took aim at the bag target ahead of him.

“Seriously?” Simon rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Being a jerk is more important to you?”

The bowstring slipped through Alec’s fingers. The arrow barely hit the bag.

Alec clenched his jaw even harder than before and lowered his bow with a heated glare at the gym floor.

Simon watched him quietly, waiting for him to make up his mind.

Alec pursed his lips and kept his head down. When he finally said something, his lips barely moved.

“I’m trying to figure out how he…” Alec’s mouth snapped shut and twisted like he was chewing on something that tasted funny. “What does he want from me?”

Simon’s brows made a return trip to his hairline. “Shouldn’t you be asking him that?”

It was obviously the wrong thing to say.

Alec’s face went right back to the Terminator stare. He raised his head like the eponymous killer robot and pulled another arrow out of his quiver.

“Forget I said anything.”

Something about Alec’s tone reminded Simon of Raphael when he had followed Simon to his room after their second disaster kiss. Raphael had tried to tell Simon about his feelings, but Simon had been too freaked out to listen properly and it had caused them days of pain. 

What if Alec really was trying to ask for help, and Simon just let it go, and as a result Magnus got his feelings hurt again? No way was he going to let that happen. 

“Look,” Simon said with a sigh, “it’s really not that complicated. Magnus wants you. He likes you. No clue why, but he does. Just be a mensch and treat him right. You don’t even need to go all out with big romantic gestures or anything. Magnus doesn’t do Hallmark Channel stuff, anyway.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Yeah, apparently, it’s just not his thing.”

Magnus had literally shuddered at the thought when he and Simon had talked about it out on the back forty, but there was no need to go into that much detail with Alec. That might just cause more problems. 

“Right.” Alec’s mouth twisted in a frown, and his long dark brows furrowed deeply over his nose. “So, he doesn’t do romantic feelings?”

Simon waved his hand and shook his head. “Hey, no, I didn’t say that.”

Just because Magnus didn’t go for the roses and chocolate stuff, it didn’t mean he didn’t care. He just had other ways of showing it. Apparently, Alec just hadn’t figured that part out yet.

“Maybe you guys just talk different love languages?”

“Love…” Alec trailed off with a gawk.

“Yeah, you know?” Simon shrugged. “Affirmation, service, gifts, time, and touch. Magnus is big on the touch.”

Simon had never met anyone who liked to touch people affectionately as much as Magnus, except maybe Cat. Luckily, ever since Simon and Raphael had gotten together, Magnus and Cat spent most of their time all over each other instead of all over Simon and Raphael.

Alec’s grimace intensified. He looked a little flushed and shifted on his feet. “What did he tell you?”

Simon laughed. “He didn’t have to tell me anything. I mean, it’s pretty obvious when you know about this stuff. There’s a Ted talk on YouTube. You should check it out. Seriously. Just search for ‘Five Love Languages’.”

If Alec sincerely wanted to know how to best give Magnus what he wanted, learning about this stuff would definitely help.

“Boys!” Coach Magdalena’s voice cleared the several hundred feet of distance between them without a problem. “Less yappin’, more shooting. I don’t care if you’re in the top 10. I want you in the top 5! Simon, get over here!”

That officially ended the conversation.

“Good luck,” Simon threw over his shoulder on his way to the bulls-eye targets on the other end of the gym.

On Saturday, Raphael still refused to let Simon do anything for his birthday. Simon wasn’t even allowed to tell Magnus or Cat about it. That part was just unfair, but Simon knew it was because Magnus would throw a big party, and Raphael had been adamant that he didn’t want to attend any more of those.

“He actually goes past Oscar the Grouch right into Grinch territory. I don’t know what to do.”

Raphael hadn’t said Simon couldn’t tell his sage Auntie Maia, and since Maia didn’t ever talk to Magnus or Cat, Simon figured it was safe to talk to her about it.

Maia drummed the heels of her winter boots against the half-wall they were sitting on and made a humming noise in her throat.

“You’re still gonna get him a present, right?”

“Duh.” Simon rolled his eyes. “Why do you think we’re sitting here, freezing our butts off?”

The bus downtown was already five minutes late. It had probably gotten stuck somewhere because of slush or black ice or idiot drivers. Most likely a combination of all three.

“Just checking.” She grinned. “I’m surprised he let you out of his sight, though. Did you conveniently forget to tell him that you’re going to hang out with me?”

Simon blushed and ducked his head. “It may have slipped my mind to mention it before he left to see Rosa.”

Maia laughed loud and hard. “You are such a chicken-shit.” She bumped her shoulder into his and shook her head. “Seriously, he needs to just get over it.”

“I know,” Simon grumbled, thinking about the way Raphael’s shoulders would tense up and he’d get all growly and possessive. Simon smirked. “It’s still kinda hot, though.” 

“Oh-hoh!” Maia laughed again and pointed a finger at his face. “So, you’re not actually a chicken-shit, you’re just saving it for later, so you can get him all riled up when you can do something about it.” She waggled her brows meaningfully.

“No!” Simon protested.

The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. He really wasn’t the manipulative type.

“Uh-huh,” Maia said with crinkled brows and a sarcastic smile. She clearly didn’t believe him.

“Honestly!” Simon insisted. “I swear that’s not it.”

“Sure.”

The bus finally squealed its way up the slushy road and stopped in front of them.

When they walked into Golden Valley an hour later, Simon knew exactly where he was going and what he was getting. He’d found it online on Thursday and ordered it for store pick-up. Simon would owe Becky the lion’s share of his allowance for the next couple of months, but it was totally worth it. 

Maia’s eyes bugged out and her mouth dropped open as they headed straight for the fancy glass and gold entrance doors of the biggest jeweler in the mall.

“Uhm,” she said with an awkward chuckle. “Don’t you think that’s a bit soon?”

Simon spun around on his heel, sneakers squeaking, and opened the door for her.

“Huh?”

She stepped past him over the threshold with a disbelieving grimace and a squirmy shrug of her shoulders.

“You guys have only been going out for like two weeks. You’re both going home to different states for Thanksgiving break next week. I’m just saying.”

Simon crinkled his brows and shook his head. He had no idea what Maia was going on about.

“You’re just saying what?”

Maia huffed and grabbed his arm to pull him aside. She threw a squirmy glance at the well-dressed people behind the counter who were starting to give them weird looks.

“I’m saying,” she stressed the word in a low, intense mutter. “It’s maybe a bit early to be exchanging rings, don’t you think?”

“Rings?” Simon’s head snapped back as if she’d flicked his forehead. “What?”

Maia screwed up her face in an intense grimace and waved one hand toward the display counter next to them. It was chock-full of elegantly displayed wedding and engagement rings in all types of expensive materials.

Simon stared at them for a second. The heavy, silver and black tungsten carbide rings looked pretty nice, actually. Then he laughed, maybe a little too loudly for their fancy surroundings.

“You’re funny,” he said, shaking a finger in her face before he pulled her along by her elbow. “Come on.”

Maia followed him reluctantly, glaring daggers at him while he pulled out his phone and stepped up right in front of the counter. He gave his biggest bar mitzvah grin to the snooty sales people.

“I’m here to pick up an online order. It’s under Simon Lewis.”

Despite the funny moment in the jeweler, Simon ended up second-guessing himself the moment they got on the bus back to the academy.

“It is too much, too soon, isn’t it?” He bit his bottom lip and stared at the small plastic bag between his fingers with trepidation. “Probably way too much.”

Maia growled through her teeth next to him. “Back at the jeweler, you said it was perfect.”

“It is,” he blurted. “It’s perfect, but it’s also a lot, like probably way more than a first gift should be, and what if it sends the wrong message? I mean, the last thing I want to do is give him the idea that it’s some sort of joke, or what if--”

“Simon!” Maia snapped, punching him hard in the arm. “Stop.”

Simon pressed his lips together and glared at the back of the seat in front of him. His knee was bouncing at a mile a minute. He really wasn’t done second-guessing.

Maia sighed. “You remember in the movie when they were getting ready to go through with their crazy plan and do the thing with the car?”

Simon nodded. He did remember that scene vividly. It had been one of the coolest scenes in the whole movie.

Maia hummed and nodded along. “And remember what the chick told the guy when he was getting all squirrely about it?”

Simon pressed his lips tighter together and breathed out a nervous chuckle through his nose. He nodded and gave himself a second before he tried to say the line.

“Suit up or shut up?”

Maia nodded and twitched her brows with a meaningful expression.

“Exactly.”

She wrapped her hand around his upper arm and squeezed tight. It felt oddly reassuring.

A few hours later, Simon waited outside of the chapel for Raphael to finish closing up the place. The small, professionally gift-wrapped box was burning a hole into the back pocket of his jeans.

The oak doors opened and Raphael came out with Father Aldertree. They were chatting, and the chaplain’s mouth curled up into the same smarmy smirk he had given the receptionist in the Admin Building that time when Simon had helped Raphael with the book donation thing.

“I’m not ready to give up on you, yet,” Father Aldertree drawled.

Simon’s smile faltered. That comment was totally inappropriate for an adult to make to a student. Especially when the student had a boyfriend who was standing right there.

Simon forced himself to put on his brightest grin, straightened up to his full height, and pulled his shoulders as wide as they would go.

“There you are, babe,” he called loudly. “What took you so long?”

If looks could kill, Simon would have been dead on the ground. Twice.

_Shit! _

Simon ducked his head. The drawling cadence of The Smith’s singer, Morrissey, immediately rang inside his head.

_Bigmouth, la-da-da-da_

_Bigmouth strikes again_

_And I've got no right to take my place_

_With the human race _

“Goodnight, Father,” said Raphael very, very calmly, never taking his death-glare off Simon.

“Goodnight, Raphael, and, please, remember what I told you about stumbling off the path.”

Simon’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath, ready to throw caution to the wind and tell Aldertree exactly where he could—

Raphael’s deadly glower was so close to Simon’s face it drowned out everything around him. His hand clamped around Simon’s elbow, forcefully turned him around, and pushed him away from the chapel.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Raphael said darkly as he marched Simon down the gravel pathway toward the dorms. “Especially not in front of the father.”

Anxiety and anger battled it out inside Simon like a couple of Jedi knights. For once, anger got the upper hand.

Simon ripped his elbow out of Raphael’s grip and pulled up short.

“Why?” he asked pointedly. “Do I embarrass you?”

Raphael made a frustrated noise in his throat. “All the time.”

Simon reared back. His heart squeezed tight and lurched into a painful rhythm. He tried to ignore it.

“I see.”

Raphael growled and rattled off a bunch of incomprehensible profanity toward the sky before he lowered his head to look back at Simon. Whatever he saw made him lose control of his expression.

“Shit, Simon!”

Simon’s stomach clenched. He felt like the temperature had dropped ten degrees below freezing in the couple of minutes they’d been standing out here.

“Whatever.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

When Raphael raised his hands in a placating gesture, Simon quickly backed out of his reach. 

“Sure, you didn’t.” Feeling like a grade-A idiot, Simon pulled the present from his back pocket and tossed it at Raphael. “Happy birthday, asshole.”

Simon turned around and walked away, trying to keep his breath steady and even. His heart twisted like it was trying to come up with a brand-new way to hurt itself on the way down the same-old spiral.

A heavy weight barreled into him from behind. Simon would have toppled face first into the gravel, but a strong pair of arms was restraining him, keeping him from going anywhere.

“I’m sorry.” Raphael’s chin dug into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I am an asshole. I didn’t mean it. I swear.”

Simon tried to shrug him off, but Raphael held on tighter, trapping Simon’s arms at his sides.

“I swear I didn’t. I get embarrassed, but that’s not your fault. Father Aldertree is—”

Simon snorted. “A judgmental dick who looks down on people like me and Magnus but occasionally enjoys a good flirt with staff and students?”

“What?” Raphael’s arms twitched and he pulled his head back, but he didn’t let go. “What are you…” He rested his chin on Simon’s shoulder again. “It doesn’t matter. Aldertree doesn’t matter. You matter to me, and I’m sorry I said that you embarrass me because it’s not true.”

Simon hung his head. Maybe Raphael hadn’t meant it, but it had hit Simon right where it hurt the most.

He knew he was a klutz, and a dork, and a goober, and whatever other terms there were for people who generally acted in a way that made everyone around them groan in embarrassment. He didn’t mean to be, it just happened. A lot.

“I shouldn’t have called you ‘babe’ in front of Aldertree,” he grumbled. “It just slipped out.”

Okay, maybe Simon had wanted it to slip out. He just couldn’t stand the way the priest kept acting like a bad stereotype every time Simon saw him around Raphael.

Raphael’s breath huffed warm against his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you for it.”

Simon raised one hand and wrapped it over Raphael’s forearm across his chest. He couldn’t make any promises, but he could try to be better. Clearly, Raphael wasn’t the only one prone to occasional irrational outbursts.

“I’ll try not to do it again,” he offered sincerely.

Raphael stifled an uncomfortable noise. “If you really want to, you can call me whatever you want anywhere else.”

His tone of voice made it sound as if he was offering to let Simon pull his teeth without anesthetic.

“Really?” Simon chuckled and patted Raphael’s forearm. “Sweetheart? Darling? Honey? Shnookums?”

Raphael tightened his grip, pressing the air out of Simon with a grunt.

“Don’t push it … puppy.”

“What?” Simon’s snicker stopped abruptly.

“Sunshine,” Raphael growled right into his ear.

The voice and the warm breath sent a shiver down Simon’s back and right back up between his legs. His eyes slipped closed with an unintentional sigh. It was embarrassing and totally unfair what Raphael could do to him without actually doing anything.

“Dumpling.”

Simon snarled and struggled against Raphael’s grip. Worse, he had to fight his own body that was still trying to crawl into the warmth of that rumbling voice and the firm embrace against Raphael’s chest.

“Bastard!” Simon barked emphatically, banging his head back on Raphael’s shoulder.

“You started it.” Raphael chuckled and kissed his cheek. “Puppy.”

Simon made a noise in his throat, trying to convey his annoyance with the effect one single word, rumbled in that very specific tone, was having on him. Unfortunately, the noise came out less like an irritated huff and more like a pathetic whine.

“You like it when I call you that.” Raphael sounded baffled and amused.

“No reason to get smug.” A wicked grin curled up Simon’s lips as he thought of a really nasty one. “Muffin.”

Raphael made a low growling noise right in Simon’s ear. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You don’t know what I’d dare.”

“I’d have to hurt you,” Raphael threatened.

Simon let his boyfriend catch his weight as he sagged into a fit of evil cackling. A song lyric spontaneously popped through his head and he didn’t bother to keep it to himself.

“Hurt so good,” he sang, twitching his shoulders with the catchy rhythm of the old song. “Come on, baby, make it hurt so good.”

That earned him a swift kick in the pants. It didn’t actually hurt, but it made Simon laugh harder and sing louder, exaggerating the twang.

“Sometimes Lurve don’t feel like it should. You make it.” He shrugged his shoulders twice. “Hurt so good.”

Raphael growled something into his shoulder that Simon couldn’t understand because it was in Spanish, but he was pretty sure they were dire warnings and filthy profanities.

When Raphael’s arms loosened, Simon used the opportunity to get out of the straight-jacket hug. Surprisingly, he didn’t get too far before Raphael caught his hand. Simon squeezed his fingers once in reassurance before he let go.

Seeing Raphael’s hands empty reminded him.

“Shit, your present!” he said with wide eyes. “You did catch it, right?”

Raphael snorted. “Yeah, I caught it. You didn’t chuck it that hard.”

He pulled the small package out of his coat pocket. The ribbon was crumpled.

Simon almost collapsed with relief. That would have been an expensive act of stupidity if he’d managed to lose it.

“Are you going to open it?” he asked, bouncing on his feet.

Raphael furrowed his brows. “Now?”

“Yeah, sure, why not? It’s nothing big. Literally, it’s like two inches. I was worried it still might be too big, and it’s probably too much but—”

“Simon?”

“Huh?”

“Shut up. You’re going to spoil it.”

“Sorry.” Simon zipped his lips shut.

He stared at the package really hard as Raphael fiddled with the ribbon and started to meticulously peel off the tape. Then he mentally kicked himself and brought his gaze up to look at Raphael’s face. He knew what was in the package. He needed to see if Raphael liked it. Simon shoved his hands into his back pockets and waited.

Raphael’s face went through a whole bunch of different expressions in very quick succession. After surprise and shock, it settled on something dark and twisty that looked like Simon had resurrected Raphael’s beloved pet from the dead and handed it to him with a bow around it.

“You don’t like it,” Simon said quietly. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“No. It’s not that.”

Raphael’s free hand lashed out and gripped Simon’s wrist so tightly that the bones rubbed together. Simon didn’t pull away. He got the feeling that would be the worst thing he could do right now. 

“Then what is it?” he asked quietly.

“I used to have one just like it,” Raphael muttered. “My mom gave it to me for my first communion. It …” Raphael struggled with the words. He looked like he was swallowing nails. “It got destroyed in the explosion.”

Simon opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it again. He was not going to ask or comment on the fact that he was getting better at reading Raphael’s complicated facial expressions. He turned his wrist in Raphael’s grip and linked their fingers.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing Simon allowed himself to say.

Raphael nodded and squeezed his hand. He held the black velvet box with the engraved silver cross in his open palm.

“I do love it,” he said quietly before he dragged his gaze up to make eye-contact with Simon. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Simon tugged on Raphael’s hand and pulled him into a hug. He was relieved when Raphael didn’t push him away and instead hugged him back tightly.

“I just wanted you to know that I get it,” he muttered against Raphael’s shoulder. “Aldertree’s still a dick, and I can’t stand him, but I get it. I know how important this is to you, and I would never do anything to mess with that.” Simon winced when he realized how stupid that sounded right after practically announcing their gay relationship to Raphael’s priest. “Intentionally, I mean, I would never intentionally do anything--”

“Simon.” Raphael’s grumble was a little on the grouchy side.

“Yeah?”

Simon cringed and pulled away with his eyes squeezed shut, expecting a punch to the shoulder and a snappy remark. When he got a lenient sigh and a tap on the nose instead, his eyes snapped open in surprise.

Raphael was holding up the cross between them, hanging from its thin silver chain around his fingers.

“Help me put this on?”

“Yeah.”


	21. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_WARNING! DO NOT IGNORE:_**: This chapter contains mention of past self-harm, mention of a past suicide attempt, mention of drug abuse, and a stretch of a shitty parent putting her kids through hell in the form of constant denigration.
> 
> ###### 

Alec writhed against the crossed black beams in front of him, testing the strength of the manacles around his wrists and ankles. They held tight. He was fastened to the four ends of the St. Andrew’s Cross, naked and exposed.

Icy viscous liquid slithered down his spine. His shivers dragged on as scorching hands drove away the chill and spread the slippery substance across his back.

“Why?” he rasped, squirming under the gentle touch.

“Because it’ll hurt more,” Magnus’s voice purred in his ear.

Alec trembled, turned his wrists, and grabbed hold of the chains that tethered him to the cross.

The whip whistled through the air.

He cried out at the first kiss of the straps. His nerves sang. Everything disappeared except the wood beneath his forehead, the leather around his wrists, and the fire burning across his back.

“Color?” Magnus asked calmly.

“Green,” Alec moaned.

The whip whistled through the air again.

Alec jerked awake, panting for breath. His pajama bottoms stuck to his skin. He pressed his hands to his face and cursed.

This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up like that. It wasn’t even the first time this week.

In reality, Magnus rarely used anything more than his hands and teeth to inflict pain. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the dreams from getting more intense every night.

A glimpse at the alarm clock on his bedside table told him it was 4:33 am.

Alec rolled out of bed. He dropped his filthy pajama bottoms in the hamper and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

To make things worse, he was barely getting any sleep to begin with since his uncomfortable conversation with Simon during archery training last week.

It had really started with Raphael Santiago’s comment before that. Alec had done his best to push the thought aside, but once his suspicions were roused, his mind didn’t let things go easily.

He had gone to Simon Lewis to confirm that Santiago had misinterpreted things.

Instead, the nerd had casually thrown the L-word into the mix, complete with a recommendation to a Ted talk on the subject. 

Magnus Bane didn’t do feelings. The party prince had screwed his way through most of the student body. Alec was just another notch in his bedpost, and that was all he was supposed to be.

His thoughts kept churning while Alec went through the day on autopilot. He barely paid attention in class, too busy going over every single interaction he’d had with Magnus from the night of the first party at the old stables to their most recent session four days ago.

It was alarming how little it took to reinterpret certain stuff that Magnus had said and done.

As a result, Alec became hyper-aware of the tightness in his skin where the deepest scratches were still healing.

Ten hours later, he headed down the gravel path to the infirmary still on autopilot. He ignored Agnes on his way to the elevator. On the second floor, he headed down the righthand side to Room 216.

Dr. Scott already sat in one of the cream-colored chairs. He had one long leg crossed over the other, smooth gray slacks flowing down to the pointy tips of shiny red-brown leather loafers. His tape recorder sat in the middle of the coffee table.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.” Alec shrugged off the question out of habit. “A little tired.”

He slumped into the couch with his arms crossed in front of his chest, dropped his head on the backrest, and closed his eyes.

Dr. Scott chuckled. “I see that.”

Alec heard the mechanical click of buttons followed by the quiet whir of the tape recorder.

“Fatigue aside,” Dr. Scott drawled, “how do you feel about your progress since you’ve started therapy?” 

Alec hummed distractedly.

“Fine, I guess? I mean, it’s not like anything’s changed. Lydia’s been civil. Izzy’s been behaving herself.” He still hadn’t explained to Dr. Scott exactly what he meant by that. “I’m busy revising for midterms.”

None of which was anywhere near the front of his mind right now.

“Are you still maintaining your arrangement with the prince?”

Alec felt heat rise from under his collar. That was exactly where his mind was at the moment, and it was refusing to go anywhere else.

They never mentioned Magnus by name. He still wasn’t sure if Dr. Scott knew who ‘the prince’ really was.

“Yes,” he said. “Pretty much once a week.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Alec shrugged. “It’s like my other therapy session. Only better.”

At least, it was supposed to be. Magnus gave Alec oblivion, and Alec gave Magnus a warm body to play with.

“How so?”

Alec gritted his teeth. “It makes all the crap go away.”

The physical pain allowed him to actually forget about all the messed-up crap in his life instead of trying to drag it to the surface to examine it under a magnifying glass. The mind-blowing orgasms didn’t hurt, either.

“What kind of crap?” Dr. Scott asked.

_Izzy. Mother. Izzy’s 15th birthday party. Jace._

Alec writhed his shoulders in a shrug. “Just crap I can’t do anything about.”

He crossed his legs and furrowed his brows. He kept his eyes closed. The light in the office was too bright today.

Dr. Scott hummed. “And what does your partner get out of this arrangement?”

Alec tightened his crossed arms. How did Dr. Scott always manage to dig right into the sore spots?

“I don’t know,” he growled in frustration.

Until last Wednesday, Alec had been certain there were no feelings involved. Now his brain kept viciously pointing out things Magnus had said or done that forced Alec to doubt that certainty.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton soaked in something unpleasant that gave him a headache.

“It was supposed to be just sex.”

Dr. Scott made another humming noise. “Are you bothered by the idea that it might not be?”

Alec laughed helplessly. “Of course, I am.”

“Why is that?”

“So many reasons.”

“Like?”

“Like what if he actually has feelings for me? I’d have to stop seeing him. I’d have to go back to…”

_Being alone, miserable, helpless to fix Izzy, writhing under my mother’s thumb, pining for Jace and feeling guilty about it all the time_.

Alec took a deep breath through his nose and shook his head.

“Or, I’d have to be a complete asshole and just keep seeing him anyway, and I don’t think I can do that.”

“Because you don’t have feelings for him aside from physical attraction?”

“How could I? I’m still in love with Jace.”

Alec cringed, snapped his mouth shut, and bit down on the inside of his cheeks as hard as he could.

_Shit._

“Jace?” Dr. Scott sounded confused. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”

Alec’s eyes flew open in surprise and disbelief. “Yes, I have.”

He might have glossed over the details, but he clearly remembered telling Dr. Scott about the stable party the first week back at school when his world had started to collide with Magnus’s.

“When?” Dr. Scott pressed.

“I told you about that party the first week of school when Jace called me a…” His breath hitched. He didn’t want to say the word. “And I told you I got into a fight with him the next day. The day Magnus first kissed me.”

“You told me that someone used a homophobic slur against you at the party and that you got into a physical altercation with the same person the next day. You never said that this person’s name was Jace or that you were in love with him.”

Alec dropped his head on the backrest and stared miserably at the smooth ceiling. Of course, he would have glossed over that part.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree,” Dr. Scott said calmly. “If you are in love with Jace, why are you having sex with Magnus?”

_Shit. _

“So, you knew the prince was Magnus?”

“You just told me.”

“Shit.”

“It’s all right, Alec.”

“It’s really not.”

“Because you’re having sex with one person while you’re in love with someone else?”

“Because I’m not supposed to have sex with or be in love with either of them in the first place! How did my life get so spectacularly messed up?”

Alec pressed his hands over his face and laughed. If he didn’t laugh, he was going to cry. He refused to cry.

Dr. Scott shifted in his seat. “You keep referring to things you ‘should’ do or are ‘supposed to’ do. Has anyone in particular established those rules in your life?”

Alec’s laugh tapered off with a bitter noise.

“Rules exist for a reason,” he quoted his mother’s favorite line. “People who break them don’t succeed in the long run.”

And failure was not an option for the first-born son of the Lightwood clan.

Dr. Scott hummed. “That’s a rather simplistic view.”

“What?” Alec’s head snapped up again.

“It’s simplistic. Certainly appealing, in the sense that it invokes the idea that wicked people will get their just deserts in the end, but it utterly fails to account for ethical nuances.”

“What?”

Dr. Scott sighed. “Think about it, Alec. Rules exist for a reason. Obviously. The importance lies not in the rule itself but in the reasoning that guides it. For example, what if I arbitrarily established a rule that no one was ever allowed to wear orange socks because I personally find them abhorrent? Shouldn’t somebody defy me and wear orange socks anyway? Wouldn’t you want that somebody to succeed in the long run and dispense with this silly rule?”

“Orange socks?” Alec said blandly.

“Would you rather I use historical examples of rules designed specifically for the suppression of minorities? There are certainly a countless number that apply.”

“Oh.”

Alec froze. Those two thoughts had never connected to each other in his mind.

He had grown up with that line drilled into his brain. Every time he made a mistake. Rules exist for a reason, Alec. Every time he set a toe out of line. Rules exist for a reason, Alec. Every time he so much as looked in the direction of something that his mother didn’t condone. Rules exist for a reason, Alec.

Dr. Woolsey sighed. “Where did you come across this rather twisted truism then?”

Alec hummed. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked up into the calm expression and unguarded green gaze of Dr. Scott.

The man was waiting patiently for an answer.

Alec chuckled sardonically. “My mother.”

Dr. Scott nodded. He didn’t laugh or make a funny quip about Freud. He just braced his chin in his hand and rested his other arm comfortably across his lap.

“Would you like to tell me about her?”

Alec cringed. “There’s no point.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because talking about her is not going to change her.”

“No,” Dr. Scott said easily, “but it might change how you feel about her.”

Alec snorted. “I doubt it.”

“You won’t know until you try.”

Alec raised one eyebrow. “That’s a truism, too.”

Dr. Scott raised his left eyebrow right back at him. “Yes, but it applies.”

Alec sighed. “She’s just… She has a very strong personality. She makes the rules and people follow them.”

Except people like Alec’s father who had packed his bags and jetted off to the other side of the country just to get away from her. 

Dr. Scott nodded. “Has she always been like that?”

“I guess?” Alec shrugged. He hadn’t known his mother before she was his mother, but she’d been that way for as long as he could remember. “It got worse after…” He closed his mouth. Took a breath. Let it go. “Max.”

“Your file mentioned a younger brother called Maxwell.”

Alec nodded. “Max died when he was nine.” The words cut like razor blades on his tongue. “Brain aneurysm. Doctors tried to clip it. They failed.”

Three days after the funeral, strangers had removed every remnant of his little brother’s presence from their home. If it wasn’t for the medical bills, nobody would have believed Max Lightwood had ever existed.

A week later, Robert Lightwood had moved out. The divorce had been finalized months before the last bill for Max’s hospital visit had rolled in.

“And then we all pretended nothing ever happened.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dr. Scott asked calmly.

Alec sneered. “My parents got divorced. Dad moved across the country to Los Angeles and started dating airheads with bubble tits. My mother discovered she didn’t need him as long as she still had me to hold her purse and smile for glamour shots with the caucus.”

Within the span of a month, Alec’s whole world had come crashing down around his ears. His little brother had died; his best friend had become a forbidden desire; his father had left; his mother had embraced her inner evil queen; and his cherished baby sister had turned into someone he couldn’t even recognize.

And then life had moved on inside the rubble for three years before someone with a mean streak and access to drugs decided to make Alec destroy what was left at Izzy’s 15th birthday party.

“Shit,” Alec said, chuckling. “My life is a goddamn Lifetime drama. Just kill me now.”

“Alec?” Dr. Scott’s tone was quiet and probing.

It occurred to him that his therapist might have misconstrued that last statement.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He was a little surprised when he realized he was telling the truth. He actually didn’t want to die. He just wanted, desperately. No, he needed for his life to stop being such a goddamn mess.

“I just,” he said with a sigh. “It’s been three years. Almost four now. It feels like everything went off the rails at the same time when I was fourteen, and I’ve just been grinding along since then.”

“Can you explain what you mean by that?”

Alec huffed out a breath through his lips and recited the list that had brought him to his Lifetime drama conclusion.

Dr. Scott hummed and uncrossed his legs. “What changed about your sister?”

Alec flinched. “Be easier to tell you what didn’t.”

He had tried so hard to hold on to Izzy. Alec couldn’t count the number of times or the number of ways he had tried.

“I really tried, though,” Alec said, pointing a finger at no one in particular. “Not that it did any good.”

“Tried what?”

“Everything.” Alec shrugged. “After Max, she stopped eating. I sat with her for every meal. Made her eat until she started again on her own.”

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and thought about it. Every little and not so little thing Izzy had done over the past three years to add to the rubble.

“She threatened to cut herself, once.” He couldn’t remember why. Probably a fight with their mother. “I took a kitchen knife and cut my arm right in front of her face.” He shook his head. “She screamed so loud. Then she cried the whole time while I fixed myself up and cleaned up the mess. The cut wasn’t even that big.” He shrugged. “But she never threatened to do that again.”

Instead, she had started to hook up with guys ten years older than her.

Alec had lost his shit. He huffed out a breath and rubbed his hands over his face again.

“She just keeps doing stupid stuff,” he growled, “and every time I try to stop her, it only makes it worse.”

“How so?”

Alec gritted his teeth. The black and blue puncture marks in the crook of Izzy’s elbow were seared into his brain. If he shot up in front of her, would she stop?

“She’s started taking drugs now. She overdosed on shit I didn’t even know she was doing.”

Dr. Scott cleared his throat. “When was this?”

Alec shrugged. “A few weeks ago? The night of Fall Formal.”

The night Alec had blown up his parentally approved relationship with Lydia to hook up with Magnus Bane in a fit of reckless rebellion.

He sighed and dropped his arms beside him on the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

Dr. Scott shifted in his seat. “How did your parents respond to this incident?”

Alec shrugged. “Dad wanted to put Izzy in rehab. Mother thought it wasn’t necessary.”

Quiet fell between them.

Alec remembered how angry he had been that weekend. How out of it he’d been the whole time. How phenomenally stupid and incredibly revelatory it had been to seek out Magnus while he was in that mental state.

That weekend had been when their screwed-up thing had really started. 

“How did you respond to it?” Dr. Scott asked as if he’d been reading Alec’s mind.

“I went to see Magnus and made him fuck me.”

“And thus started your arrangement with the prince?”

Alec nodded. “In a nutshell.”

Dr. Scott exhaled a quiet sigh. “Thank you for sharing all that with me, Alec. I think we’ve now reached a good place to start working from.”

Alec raised his head and stared at Dr. Scott, not even trying to control the expression on his face.

“What?”

Dr. Scott smiled. “Today, you’ve been completely honest with me for the first time. With things out in the open, it will be much easier to work on goals to help you achieve what you want. Put your life back on the rails as it were.”

Alec laughed. “You really think you can fix me?”

Dr. Scott wrinkled his nose. “I don’t think of people in terms of fixing them. It makes them sound like broken gadgets, and I’m not much of a mechanic.” 

Alec felt weirdly buoyant when he left Dr. Scott’s office half an hour later. His mind was humming with static after he had voiced every thought churning around in there.

He also had been given the task to write down a list of ten things he wanted. They could be anything. Things he wanted to do or even things he wanted to say to people. They just needed to be ten things he genuinely wanted for himself.

Alec had no idea where to start, but at least he had an extra week to come up with something, because his next session with Dr. Scott wasn’t until after Thanksgiving Break.

He took a quick shower, changed into casual clothes, took his meds, and headed to the mess hall for dinner.

Izzy was waiting at their usual table. Her long, dark hair hung in loose tendrils down her shoulders. She was dressed in uniform. More accurately, she was wearing her personalized version that made Alec grit his teeth every time he looked at it for too long.

Her blazer had been altered to fit as tightly as possible without popping the seams. Under that, she kept the first two buttons of her white blouse open, extending the v-neckline.

She didn’t wear an undershirt, either. No, his baby sister opted for bras in every color of the rainbow, drawing attention to the fact that she had bigger boobs than any fifteen-year-old should have to deal with. She’d had them since she was twelve.

Her uniform skirt was several inches shorter than regulation, and she always paired it with over-knee stockings that double-dog-dared anyone to stare at her naked thighs below the hemline of her skirt.

Alec gritted his teeth and sat down next to her. His buoyant mood was quickly evaporating.

Izzy didn’t look up from her plate.

“Did you take them?”

“Yes.”

He’d found the first thing for his list. Actually, this was a thing he wasn’t going to hold on to for the next two weeks. He didn’t need her to keep asking. He was tired of the underlying accusation behind the question.

Alec breathed through his irritation and turned to his baby sister.

“I’ve been going to therapy,” he announced quietly under his breath. “And I’m not going to stop taking my medication until Dr. Scott and I decide that’s a good idea, so you can stop asking me that question.”

Izzy jerked and whipped her head around, scraping her chair across the floor.

“Say that again?”

Her dark brown eyes were huge and her bright red lips gaped open. 

Alec snorted. He glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. The tables directly next to them were empty. Everyone else was minding their own business. He still kept his voice deliberately low.

“It’s no big deal. I’ve only been going for a few weeks.”

Izzy vaulted herself out of her chair and into Alec’s arms. She plopped down on his lap and hugged him so fiercely that her shoulder nearly crushed his windpipe.

He made a choking noise and pulled her shoulder away from his throat, but he wrapped his other arm around her back. She was so tiny that his fingers reached all the way around her to his own side.

“Where’s this coming from?” he whispered in her ear.

“I’m just so glad.” She sighed a hot breath against his shoulder, probably leaving garish lipstick marks on his shirt. “I was so scared for you.”

Alec huffed in disbelief. “You were scared for me?”

Izzy flinched and slid off his lap back into her own chair.

Alec grabbed her wrist and held on tight. They both stared at the crook of her elbow where she was probably hiding fresh track marks under two layers of clothing.

She dropped her head like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to,” she said in her smallest voice. “He just… It just happened.”

Friday before their Thanksgiving break passed in a blur of classes and packing. Alec’s brain was fried and his body was restless. It didn’t help that he had woken up at 4:02 am from another wet dream about Magnus and had been unable to go back to sleep.

Before he knew what was happening, he and Izzy were on the last flight headed for D.C., and they still hadn’t talked about her confession at dinner the day before.

Alec had also completely forgotten to text Magnus that he was leaving early for the week-long break. He had no clue if Magnus was staying at the academy or going back to New York. Magnus hadn’t texted him either.

He still didn’t know how to deal with the issue of Magnus possibly having feelings for him that went beyond physical attraction and apparent concern for Alec’s mental health.

Izzy deliberately spent the whole flight with her headphones in and her sleeping mask over her eyes. It was ridiculous, considering they weren’t in the air long enough to watch a two-hour movie between take-off and landing.

The second they walked out into the Arrivals hall, their mother was on top of them.

“Did you really have to dress like that?” She clicked her tongue at Izzy.

“What on earth happened to your hair?” She licked her hand and ripped her fingers through Alec’s hair, trying to flatten it out.

“Why do I pay this school an exorbitant amount of money every year when they can’t even teach you to take proper care of your appearance?”

The litany continued uninterrupted in the same vein while they handed over their luggage to the driver and followed Maryse out of the airport to the limousine.

“Your father has decided to join us for Thanksgiving this year. He has announced his arrival for Wednesday.”

That came as a surprise. Neither of them had seen Robert Lightwood in the flesh since that one awkward visit to Los Angeles during spring break the previous year.

“Dad’s coming?” Izzy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Don’t look so pleased,” Maryse snapped immediately. “I expect you to be on your best behavior, and I won’t have him put any ridiculous notions in your head. He is free to be a beach bum and squander the rest of his life away. You are not.”

Maryse didn’t let up until they told her good night and fled to their bedrooms.

She had redecorated since the beginning of the school year. Different curtains; different accent lamps; a different set of decorative pillows on top of a brand-new comforter.

Alec tried to ignore all that while he lay on his back, staring at the same old white ceiling.

One week. He could survive one week. Today was over, and the flight back was early next Saturday, so those two didn’t count. Only seven days to go.

At 7:30 am the next morning, he stopped Izzy in the hallway before she could disappear into the bathroom.

“I still wanna talk to you,” he said quietly, trying to pull her toward his room.

“About what?” she nearly whispered back.

“Alec? Isabelle? Is that you?” Their mother’s heels punched dully against the carpeted steps as she made her way up the stairs. “Are you finally getting up? It’s nearly 8:00 am already. I know Alicante doesn’t let you sleep in until all hours. You better be dressed and ready for church this time tomorrow.”

Alec and Izzy froze, staring at each other for a moment.

“Well? Get on with it. Breakfast starts in ten minutes.” Maryse stomped her way back down the stairs. “And for heaven’s sake, Isabelle, wear something decent. I bought a few dresses and put them in the closet for you. You can thank me later.”

Izzy looked like she’d been slapped in the face. Alec exhaled a slow breath. He let go of her wrist. She slipped her arms around his waist and all but crawled into his chest. He rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Six more days,” he mumbled comfortingly into her hair.

“Today still counts.” She wiped her nose on his T-shirt. “So technically, seven.”

The days crawled by at the pace of an arctic glacier. The reprimands never let up from the minute they got out of bed to the minute they went to sleep. Neither of them managed to meet any of their mother’s expectations.

Alec barely slept. He was too afraid. Sleeping meant dreaming about Magnus. Dreaming about Magnus meant waking up with caked pajama pants. Dealing with that on top of everything else was not something Alec was willing to do.

Wednesday before the holiday arrived with a blast of cold wind, dropping the temperature below freezing, and Maryse at her worst.

The doorbell rang in the middle of a spiteful comment that had Izzy swallowing back tears. Alec tried to reach out to her as soon as their mother had turned her head, but Izzy pulled her hand away and tucked it behind the back of the borderline Mennonite flower dress she was wearing.

“Rules exist for a reason,” Maryse barked on her way to answer the door.

Alec jolted. He vividly remembered Dr. Scott’s casual dismissal of the truism during his latest therapy session.

“Orange socks,” he muttered under his breath.

He could feel Izzy staring at him like he had lost his mind.

Alec shrugged and whispered. “Tell you later.”

Izzy’s attention didn’t stay on him. Their mother had returned, and she was not alone.

“Why couldn’t you get a hotel room? Honestly, Robert. If you can’t even manage that much, I can’t imagine how you sustain a career out there. Then again, _she _probably handles everything for you now. Just like I had to.”

“I told you, Maryse—”

“Daddy!”

Izzy dashed across the room and threw herself into their father’s arms.

Robert Lightwood dropped his suitcase where he stood and hugged her back.

“Hey, angel. I missed you.”

Alec resisted the urge to run his fingers through his gel-slick hair, shoved his hands into the pockets of his charcoal-gray slacks, and dropped behind his mask.

“Hello, Dad. How was your flight?”

Robert Lightwood looked tired. His black hairline had receded since Alec had last seen him, but he had gained a crisp tan. The crow’s feet around his dark blue eyes looked deeper. His full beard was trimmed closer than before. He was shorter than Alec remembered.

Izzy was almost the same height, raised on the tip-toes of the tasseled leather loafers she was wearing. She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a sheen of clear lip gloss.

“I missed you so much, Dad.”

Robert smiled at Izzy as if she was actually an angelic creature gifted to him from heaven. He didn’t even let go of her when he pulled out of the hug. He just tucked her against his side as if he planned to keep her there.

Alec was convinced his father hadn’t even heard him.

“Your son asked you a question, Robert.”

Alec flinched. He didn’t know what felt worse. His dad ignoring him, or his mother pointing it out.

“I heard him, Maryse.” Robert snapped at Maryse while tightening his hold on Izzy. “I’m sorry, Alec. The flight was fine. A little rough over the mountains, but totally worth it to see you two.”

Alec barely managed to suppress a sarcastic snort.

It didn’t come as a surprise when Robert turned around, shortly after placing his suitcase in the guest room, and announced he was taking Izzy to go shopping.

He invited Alec along, but if there was one thing Alec appreciated less than his mother’s constant criticism, it was his father’s sad attempt to make up for abandoning Izzy by spoiling her rotten.

Alec opted to hide in his room and go over revision material for the upcoming midterms. At least his mother left him alone while he was doing that.

Thanksgiving began at 6:00 am with his mother’s ruthless bark. The holiday special torture tango started not long after Alec had poured his first cup of coffee.

He was making himself as unobtrusive as possible in the corner by the coffee maker when Maryse’s voice blasted him from behind.

“Get out of the kitchen, you’re just going to get in the way.”

He ducked his head and slinked out. When Izzy flopped down next to him on the couch, he handed her his half-finished cup of coffee so she didn’t have to go in there.

Maryse must have sensed her presence.

“What do you two think you’re doing? Why are you not in the kitchen helping? Dinner is not going to cook itself.”

Izzy ducked her head. Alec squared his shoulders.

“Don’t just stand around, do something.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do. Look around and see what needs to be done.”

“Leave that alone.”

“Come here.”

“Go away!”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

By the time they sat down around the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and corn, Alec had lost his appetite.

Izzy didn’t look hungry either. She kept shooting furtive glances at their dad, fiddling with her napkin under the table.

Robert had spent the entire day hiding in the guest room, claiming overseas work obligations.

“If you’re going to be here,” Maryse told Robert across the length of the table, “you might as well say grace.”

Robert delivered the words in a perfunctory drone.

Sometimes, Alec wondered why they bothered. If there was a God, it was painfully obvious none of the Lightwoods had any genuine interest in him.

They ate in silence until Maryse decided it was time for polite conversation.

“I thought it might be nice to see the Branwells before you left. We haven’t had dinner with them in a while. Do you think you can manage to stick around long enough for that?”

Alec winced.

He had yet to inform his mother that he and Lydia had broken up. He knew it would earn him a long speech about disappointment and failure. Not to mention, his mother’s inquisition into the reason for their breakup might lead to the discovery that Alec was still seeing Magnus.

Robert cleared his throat. “I don’t think there will be time for that, Maryse. I plan on leaving tomorrow.” 

Maryse clicked her tongue. “Shame.” It didn’t sound like she meant it. “Well, I’m sure you have important things to get back to. You certainly spent most of your time here working instead of being with your children.”

Robert opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t get the opportunity.

“In any case, our invitations for the Bane gala came in. Isabelle, I expect you to attend alone. I will not tolerate any—”

“She won’t be attending.”

Robert’s tone was clear and irrefutable.

Alec stared at his father in disbelief. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Izzy duck her head and claw her fingers into her napkin.

“Excuse me?” Maryse’s tone dripped with venom.

Alec watched his father raise his chin and place his napkin on the table.

“Isabelle will be leaving with me tomorrow. We have decided that it is in her best interest to live with me for a while.”

Alec didn’t need to look at his mother to know the exact expression of ice-cold control on her face. He also knew what his mother would say next.

“Alexander, Isabelle,” she said very calmly. “Go to your rooms.”

They were twelve and fourteen again, sitting quietly on the stairs while their parents went at each other’s throats in the kitchen. They didn’t even need to strain their ears to hear every word.

“I don’t know why you think you can do this.”

“The school called me, Maryse. Looks like ignoring the problem is not going to make it go away this time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about Isabelle OD’ing and you trying to make that go away by pretending it didn’t happen. It happened! She’s an addict. She should have started rehab weeks ago. They threatened me with child services, Maryse.”

“You can’t do this!”

“I’m doing it. Expect a call from my lawyer. You know that custody battle we never had after the divorce? Well, get ready. In the meantime, my daughter is coming with me!”

Alec flinched.

Izzy sat one step below him, tucked between his knees. He tightened his arms around her shoulders and balanced his chin on the top of her head.

“Do you want to go with him?” he asked quietly. 

Izzy placed her hands on his arms and shrugged. “Will you be okay if I do?”

Alec snorted. “Are you going to be okay without me?”

What if Robert’s sudden interest in helping Izzy was just a knee-jerk response to being threatened? What if it went away and then Izzy was alone, a whole country away, where Alec couldn’t protect her?

Izzy sighed. “Dad wants me to go to rehab.”

Alec was relieved to hear it. He was equally worried it wasn’t actually going to happen.

“Will you?”

“Yeah, I want to. I…” Izzy tightened her grip on his arms and sniffled. “I swear I didn’t mean to, Alec. The pills I did, but not the other stuff. That wasn’t me.” Her voice got so quiet it was almost lost in the noise of their parents screaming at each other. “Do you believe me?” 

Alec squeezed her back. “I will if you write to me from rehab. At least once a week.”

“I’ll write every day, as soon as they let me.”

Alec snorted. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“You’ll see.” 

In the kitchen, the argument reached the inevitable crescendo.

“Fine! Take her! She’s yours!” Maryse shrieked. “But don’t think for a second I’ll let you take my son!”

“Alec is eighteen. Legally, he’s an adult. He can do whatever he wants.”

Alec did not move to Los Angeles with his sister and his father. Instead, he spent a cold day in hell with his mother before he got on the plane back to school alone.

He walked into his room just before lunch on Saturday and wanted nothing more than to pass out and sleep until Monday morning.

The loud, vibrating buzz of his cell phone in his pants nearly made him jump out of his skin. Alec forced himself to open the app and check.

**Remember, Christmas Party at ****Bane** **Towers**** on Dec 11. Bring ****Lydia****.**

A second later, his phone buzzed again. This time it was to notify him that an event had been added to his calendar.

Alec fell back onto his bed, stared blurry-eyed at the ceiling, and laughed.

He reopened his messaging app and texted Lydia to see if she was even back yet. The response was swift and to the point.

**Yes. @ mess hall, having lunch.**

Alec sighed and dragged himself back onto his feet.

He waited in the hallway outside of the mess hall for Lydia to come out.

“Can I talk to you?”

She stopped, crossed her arms, and looked at him with a neutral expression.

“I didn’t put out a restraining order or anything.”

It was a perfectly Lydia thing to say. Alec realized with a pang that he missed her.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

When her eyes went wide and she stared at him like he’d grown a second head, he realized that he had never really apologized for what had happened between them.

He motioned for her to follow him to a quiet alcove with a row of lockers and some sad looking fake plants.

“I really am,” he said. “I should have said that sooner. I wasn’t being fair to you. You were just trying to hold things together like you always have, and I…” He’d made a spectacular mess of things. “I’m sorry for ruining Fall Formal, too.”

Lydia laughed. It was the loud, shrill one that meant she was incredulous, verging on pissed off.

“You think I cared about that stupid dance?”

He cringed. It had seemed like that at the time. Appearances were everything.

“Alec, I care about you. A lot. Like _a lot. _I’ve had a damn Pinterest for my dream wedding since I was sixteen, and all of a sudden you’re fucking gay!” She smashed her fist into the lockers beside her and pulled back just as fast. “Ouch!”

“Crap! Let me see.”

Alec rushed forward to cradle her fist in his palm and checked her knuckles. It didn’t look too bad. She’d barely scraped one of them.

“You’ll be okay.” He sighed with relief. “You should probably run some cold water over it.” 

Lydia pulled her hand out of his grip with a grimace.

“It’s my own damn fault.” She snarled. “I should have punched you instead.”

Alec furrowed his brows. “Catarina Loss almost got expelled for that.”

Lydia stuck her knuckle into her mouth and sucked on it.

“Yeah, well,” she slurred around it before she popped it back out, “she was stupid enough to get caught.”

Alec ducked his head and cleared his throat. He still felt guilty.

“Listen,” he said, “I know I have no right to ask, and you have every right to tell me to go to hell, but…”

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t make himself ask her to do him a favor after she had just pretty much confessed what he’d suspected for years.

Lydia made a disgruntled noise and dropped her hand. She stared at him.

“Your mother expects us to show up to the Bane party together, doesn’t she?”

Alec felt like he was five years old again, asking for help with tying his shoe laces. He braced himself for the rejection, pressed his lips together, and nodded.

Lydia raised her chin and somehow stared down her nose at him, even though he was several inches taller.

“Then I guess we’re going shopping for new outfits.”

Alec opened his mouth to spill out his gratitude and beg for a reprieve in the same breath, but Lydia wasn’t finished talking.

“Next weekend,” she said resolutely. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Alec confirmed her assumption with barely a nod and a shrug. He couldn’t come up with proper words to express himself right now, so he offered the only thing he could.

“Thank you. I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Lydia didn’t say anything. She just gave him one of those long, hard, tight-lipped looks that he’d never learned how to read. 

“Go get some sleep.”

Alec tried, but his body had other ideas. He spent hours staring at the ceiling, thoughts churning between Izzy, Lydia, and his mother, before he went right back to Lightwood Hall for dinner.

He sat alone at the table, feeling cold and shaky. His lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him. His gaze kept wandering.

Magnus was there, surrounded by his friends. He was dressed in the same black silk shirt Alec had returned three weeks ago after the scent had faded.

He wished he had another shirt. He wished he could just walk over there and grab Magnus and drag him off to his room.

He groaned, leaned over, and furtively slipped one hand under the table to adjust himself inside his slacks. 

Mostly, he just wished he could get his brain to shut up and let him go to sleep.

The night ticked by one minute at a time. Alec spent most of it exhausted but unable to fall asleep. Not even jerking off to his favorite fantasy worked. He dozed off for maybe twenty minutes and was right back to the mess of churning thoughts.

He wondered if Izzy was already at the rehab facility. He wondered if it would help her.

The only reason Alec had ended up at Alpine View was his stupid, desperate, knee-jerk suicide attempt after Izzy’s 15th birthday party. It had landed him in the hospital and subsequently placed under psychological evaluation.

Alec had stayed 30 days, knowing he could have left after the first 72 hours. Leaving would have meant going back home.

The steaming hot shower around 6:00 am helped, but the moment Alec stepped out of it, he went back to frozen solid. He took his meds with lukewarm water and felt like throwing them right back up.

Sitting alone at the breakfast table made him feel like shit.

Magnus didn’t make an appearance for breakfast. Alec texted him to ask when they could meet up. If nothing else, maybe a session with Magnus could finally wear him out enough to get some sleep.

Alec shoved away the uncomfortable thought that he should find out where they stood first.

He skipped church in favor of staring blindly at his revision material for midterms.

Four hours later, around 11:30 am, he finally got a response.

**In my room. U can come over.**

Alec was out of his chair before he’d finished reading the message. He left his revision notes spread out on his desk and only just remembered to close the door behind him.

He knocked on Magnus’s door and was reaching for the doorknob when it opened.

The makeup around Magnus’s gorgeous eyes was gold and green, and the black lines emphasizing their shape ended in sharp slashes. His lip gloss was a warm shade of pink. He was dressed in a shiny shirt and hunter green pants that squeezed him so tightly it would take pliers to pull them off.

By comparison, Alec had barely paid attention when he had put on his faded blue jeans and a V-neck sweater. He shook his head with a chuckle and stumbled forward into Magnus’s space.

“Hey,” he mumbled against warm, sticky lips that tasted like spearmint.

Magnus sank his teeth in and pulled his hair. A moan of relief tumbled out of Alec at the familiar bright flash of sensation. He could feel the warmth radiating from Magnus.

Alec wasn’t sure what kind of noise he made, but it got cut off with a yelp when the door banged against his heel. He shuffled out of the way so Magnus could close the door behind him.

“Sorry,” he apologized reflexively.

Magnus hummed dismissively and took a couple of steps back. “What do you want today, Alexander?”

Alec shivered. The cold was seeping back in, and he was having the hardest time getting his brain to function. He couldn’t articulate what he wanted if he had a menu to point at. If he wasn’t freezing and exhausted maybe he’d be able to think straight.

His eyes almost drifted shut when he sank back against the closed door and looked down. Magnus was wearing a bunch of rings. One of them had a big blue stone in it. His nail polish was the same shade as the stone. Those scorching hands would feel so good right now.

“Heat?”

Magnus raised both eyebrows. “Heat?”

Alec nodded.

“You want to try temperature play?”

Alec half-nodded, half-shook his head. He didn’t care what they did. He just wanted to feel warm and get to a point where he could finally sleep.

“Yes or no, Alexander?”

“Yeah. Yes.” He made himself nod properly.

Alec reached toward Magnus, but he danced out of his grasp before Alec could catch him.

“Get undressed and lie face down on the bed.”

Alec rolled his eyes and did as he was told.

Ever since their first actual session, one full week after their visit to Daddy, Magnus had embraced playing the Dom with a full-body tackle hug.

Alec didn’t mind anymore. He dropped his clothes in a messy pile on the seat of the chaise lounge. When his skin hit the cool sheets, he rolled through another shudder.

“Hands above your head.”

Alec slid his hands out from under his face and pushed them toward the headboard.

At the first gentle touch of scorching fingers, he moaned.

Magnus chuckled. “Okay?”

Alec hummed and buried his face into the mattress. It smelled like Magnus. He just wanted to feel those hands all over him. Unfortunately, they retreated as soon as they had secured the restraints around his wrists.

“No,” he whined at the loss.

“Alec?” There was a strange tone in Magnus’s voice.

“Hmm?”

“Color, Alexander?”

Alec groaned. This hadn’t happened in a while. Not since Alec had to admit that his real limits were a lot different from what he’d claimed on paper.

“Fine. Green. Just cold. Sorry.”

Magnus said nothing and secured the restraints around his ankles.

Alec closed his eyes and tried to soak up the heat before it was gone again.

The mattress shifted. Limber legs sheathed in butter-soft fabric bracketed his thighs, and Magnus’s warm weight dropped onto him just below the curve of his ass.

Alec made another pathetic noise that only increased in intensity when he felt scorching hands slick with viscous liquid settle in the small of his back and fan out all the way up to his shoulders. He smelled coconut.

His dreams were coming true.

“Why oil?” he rasped as he arched into the gentle touch.

He could feel solid warmth radiate against his naked back when Magnus leaned over and purred into his ear.

“Because it’ll make it easier to remove the wax later.”

“Oh.” Alec felt himself drift off. “Kay.”

The next time he blinked, he registered warmth and darkness. He had no idea where he was, except it was comfortable and quiet.

He slid out his hand and bumped into something solid. Smooth fabric and amazing heat. He reached for it, curled himself around it, and held on. He drifted off again.

When he came back around, there was a steady, rolling thump under his ear like calm water lapping at the hull of a docked boat.

Alec gradually became alert enough to distinguish his surroundings. He was in bed, naked, tucked under silk sheets, and curled around Magnus, who was lying on top of the sheets fully dressed.

More accurately, Alec had attached himself like a limpet with his ear pressed to Magnus’s chest. The thumping boat noise turned out to be his heartbeat. 

Alec froze.

He did not feel any dried wax on his back. He’d fallen asleep before they’d done anything.

He was no longer restrained. In fact, he was the one doing the restraining with one arm wrapped around Magnus’s stomach and one leg hooked between Magnus’s knees.

Every muscle in Alec’s body screamed at him to vault out of the bed and run.

He moved his head, very slowly, to look up.

Magnus’s eyes were closed. His glittery makeup sparkled in the dim light of the room. His lips were slightly parted, and he was taking soft, even breaths. He was asleep.

Alec slid his leg off him at a snail’s pace.

Magnus made a disgruntled snuffling noise and turned his head.

Alec raised his arm from Magnus’s stomach and started to shift backward. 

Scorching fingers dug into his shoulder. Magnus pulled him closer and squished Alec’s face back against his chest.

Alec closed his eyes and cursed himself to hell and beyond. Each steady thump of Magnus’s heartbeat felt like a kick in the head.

He had gone and fallen asleep during a session, but instead of waking him up and throwing him out, Magnus had let Alec use him like a human body pillow.

Alec’s brain chose that moment to play back Simon Lewis’s words.

_Maybe you guys just talk different love languages? Magnus is big on the touch._

There was no way this was only about sex. Party prince or not, Magnus definitely had feelings. Feelings for Alec.

_Shit._

Alec cringed and slowly, carefully extricated himself until he was able to crawl backward out of bed.

Luck, for once, was on his side because Magnus didn’t open his eyes or move in any way, shape, or form.

Alec pulled his pants on as quickly and quietly as he could, grabbed the rest of his clothes in hand, and sneaked out.

He didn’t check his phone until he got back to his own room and dropped into the chair in front of his desk. It was 6:37 pm.

He had slept for almost seven hours. In Magnus’s arms. Clinging to Magnus. Magnus who had feelings for him. For how long?

Alec half-remembered. A few days after their first kiss. In the locker rooms. Magnus had popped up out of nowhere.

_I like you… If you just stopped being afraid for just a second… I think we could have something. Special.” _

Alec’s stomach dropped.

At the time, he’d been convinced Magnus was just playing coy. Using pretty euphemisms for casual sex to appease Alec’s sensibilities.

The sudden clarity left Alec cold and shaking all over again, despite the fact that he was no longer the least bit tired.


	22. Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Welcome to the Bane Holiday Party. Enjoy the drink, the food, the drama. I apologize in advance for the traumatic aftermath.
> 
> ###### 

Magnus let his gaze roam idly across the ballroom. As per usual, the annual holiday party at Bane Towers in Manhattan was an affair wrought in glitz and glamour. The color scheme was diamond and gold. Anyone who was anyone was in attendance.

He rolled his eyes and picked up another glass of champagne from a passing server who had been paid handsomely to not make a fuss about ID.

“You don’t have to be such a sour puss.” Kaelie Whitewillow’s melodic voice chimed at his side. “It’s only going to be a few hours. Just smile and wave, and pretend they’re all slowly dying from food poisoning. It’s what I do.”

Magnus chuckled and took a gulp from his drink.

Kaelie’s presence wasn’t disagreeable. She was intelligent and entertaining, and she didn’t want to take part in this circus any more than Magnus did. She looked spectacular in a sophisticated silver gown that sparkled where it caught the light from the chandeliers. She had also been nursing the same glass of champagne for the past hour while Magnus was on his third or fourth.

She looped her arm around his elbow and leaned closer.

“By the way, this is your fifth glass,” she said through a brilliant smile as she waved at someone she recognized in the crowd. “How many can you have before you start acting stupid?”

Magnus copied her smile and raised his glass in a hospitable gesture toward the same person. He had no idea who the man was and couldn’t care less.

“At least a couple more.”

This party was the adult version of FF, right down to the presence of the eminent eight who had showed up fashionably late to varying degrees.

Valentine Morgenstern and his second wife, Lilith, were currently engaged in stilted conversation with the Verlacs. They had wisely chosen to leave their respective sons back at Alicante Academy. 

Over by the buffet, Nerissa Blackthorn and Jia Penhallow were no doubt spinning elaborate wedding plans for their daughters while their husbands aimed to achieve complete artery obstruction with a single plate of food. Helen and Aline had disappeared into the powder room ten minutes ago.

Imogen Herondale was dragging her pride-and-joy grandson and his girlfriend around the room, making introductions. Jace and Clary looked disgustingly in love and completely in their element.

Then there were the Lightwoods and the Branwells.

Magnus downed the rest of his champagne and set the glass down on the nearest table before he ended up throwing it in a fit of rage.

Alec and Lydia had stepped out of the elevator arm-in-arm behind Maryse Lightwood and the Branwells. They had been attached at the hip ever since. Her Jackie O. updo matched his JFK hair, and from their general lack of expressions, they might as well have been a couple of animated marble statues.

Alec hadn’t looked at him once since they had arrived. Not that Magnus necessarily wanted him to look, much less do anything more overt than that. This night was about making a good impression and clearing his debt with Asmodeus.

But the bastard could have at least acknowledged Magnus’s existence and the absurdity of the entire situation.

They hadn’t talked to each other in two weeks. Not since the weekend that Alec had returned from Thanksgiving Break without his sister, Isabelle. Not since the Sunday that Alec had spent six hours and twenty-three minutes sleeping in his arms before he sneaked out of the room like a one-night-stand while Magnus pretended to still be asleep.

Not a word. Not a text. Nothing. If it wasn’t for Simon and Raphael, Magnus would never have known that the whole archery team had been gone for a division tournament the entire past weekend.

Magnus unhooked Kaelie’s arm from the crook of his elbow and turned to face her.

“Dance with me?”

She raised a slim blonde brow. “You think you can manage?”

“Oh, I intend to astound you with my unparalleled talent.”

Kaelie giggled and set her half-empty glass down next to his on the table.

“Razzle-dazzle me, baby.”

Magnus laughed even as his guts twisted. He wished the fingers in his hand were a rich umber with short, practical nails instead of the slender pale digits with long, glittery claws.

But Cat wasn’t here, so Magnus smiled wider, twirled Kaelie under his hand and led her into a smooth dip that Simon had patiently taught him after the four of them had gotten wasted at Magnus’s private birthday party on Wednesday.

He wished Simon and Raphael were here, too. Watching those two together never failed to cheer him up, even if it made him writhe with envy for what they had.

Simon could dance like a classic movie star. Raphael had utterly wasted his opportunity to fly drunk on clouds because he’d been too busy making grumpy moon-eyes from the sidelines. At least, until Magnus had dipped Simon a little too far and they had ended up crashing onto the stable floor.

Magnus lost himself in his thoughts as the champagne buzz took hold of his brain.

Kaelie knew how to follow his lead, so they danced, and got a little carried away, letting their hands go places they shouldn’t in a room full of high society adults.

“Don’t be crude.”

Magnus almost dropped Kaelie.

He knew that voice. He loved that voice.

“Cinna-bun!” He spun around and threw his arms around Raphael, hardly believing he was really there. “What are you doing here?”

Raphael returned the hug stiffly with one arm and made a disgruntled noise as he patted Magnus’s shoulder.

“I told you Camille was dragging me to this fancy party in the city.”

Magnus pulled back with a scoff. “You didn’t say it was at Bane Towers. There are three a week of these insufferable things between Thanksgiving and New Year’s.”

He couldn’t stop himself from hugging Raphael again. It made a world of difference to have at least one real friend in the crowd.

Kaelie cleared her throat with extra emphasis.

“Yeah, sorry.” Magnus pulled himself out of his stupor and reached back to place his hand at the small of her back. “Raphael Santiago, meet Kaelie Whitewillow. My lovely date for the evening.”

Raphael’s brows raised with a look of realization as he muttered something that sounded like, “The tree,” under his breath.

Kaelie smiled brightly and offered up her graceful hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” Raphael shook it firmly with a polite nod.

Magnus recognized the immediate spark of interest on Kaelie’s face. The poor thing was probably smitten by the complete lack of smarmy overture from Raphael. It didn’t hurt that his cinna-bun looked like a model ripped from the pages of GQ in a classic black tuxedo. Though, personally, Magnus preferred a more contemporary design on him.

He bit down on a smirk and leaned close to whisper in her ear.

“Sorry, dear. He has a boyfriend.”

Kaelie made a huffy noise and threw her hands up. “Of course, he does. Is there anyone left here who’s our age, single, and straight?”

“Pardon?” Raphael raised his brows at the unexpected outburst.

“Nothing.” She fluttered her glittery fingers in front of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Magnus chuckled and patted her consolingly. “And you were worried about me acting impulsively.”

“Raphael!”

The voice was as cold and sharp as the person it belonged to. Camille Belcourt was an attractive woman in her late thirties with immaculate wavy locks and hard eyes. Her slim figure was sheathed in a blood-red cocktail dress that matched the color of the long, pointy fingernails that came up behind Raphael and dug into his shoulder.

Magnus was overwhelmed by an instantaneous urge to pry them off and clip them down to nubs.

“There you are,” she drawled. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Raphael closed his eyes and schooled his features into a neutral expression.

“Hello, Camille.”

“Who are your friends?”

Magnus tilted his head with a facetious smirk. He could tell by her hungry look and the perfectly plastic smile on her carmine lips that Camille Belcourt knew exactly who she was looking at.

He extended his hand. “Magnus Bane. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, Miss…”

“Senator,” she corrected sharply. “Camille Belcourt. You may have heard of my late husband, Ragnor Fell?”

They shook hands and Magnus squeezed her cold, limp fingers with just a little too much pressure.

“My condolences,” he said.

His condolences went out to the poor sap who had been married to her until death liberated him.

“Thank you.” Camille smiled. Then she made a show of looking around. “Is your father not here yet?”

Magnus almost laughed out loud. “He usually doesn’t show up until it’s time for his speech.” He glanced at his antiquated wristwatch. He hated the thing, but checking his phone was considered unsophisticated among old people. “Another hour or so.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, but I promised Raphael I would introduce him to Judge Karnstein, so if you would excuse us?”

Raphael grimaced, making it perfectly clear he’d asked for no such thing.

Magnus’s heart went out to him.

“Of course,” he purred, “but please make sure you return him to us soon, so I can introduce you both to my father.”

Magnus would happily submit himself to the torture of dealing with Asmodeus in person if he could save his cinna-bun and foist off two despicable individuals on each other.

As soon as Camille and Raphael had walked out of earshot, Kaelie looped her arm back around Magnus’s elbow.

“She’s a bitch,” she said blandly before she continued in a lascivious drawl, “but I really like him.”

Magnus hummed with a glib smile. “You should see him around his boyfriend.”

“All right, I get it.” Kaelie made a grumbling noise and teeter-tottered on her heels like a toddler being denied candy at the check-out aisle. “He’s taken. But what if—”

“Not happening,” Magnus sing-songed.

Kaelie blew a quiet raspberry. “Okay, then. How about you and me with a bottle of sparkly in the coat closet?”

Magnus slowly turned his head to look at her. “Did you just proposition me like a game of Sexy Clue?”

“Maybe?” Kaelie shrugged. She wagged her brows. “I guarantee it’d be more fun than staring daggers at Alec Lightwood all night.” Her pink mouth dropped open as she pondered a thought. “Unless, you want me to invite him, too? I’ve always wanted to watch two guys have crazy angry sex.”

Magnus laughed even though he felt like screaming. “Are you sure you’ve only had that one glass of champagne?”

Kaelie wobbled on her feet again and leaned so close he could smell the artificial berry scent of her hairspray.

“I may have mixed it with a little happy pill.”

“Oh-kay.” Magnus shook his head and slung his arm around her waist. “One loop around the room to meet and greet, and then we’re getting you out of here. Do you think you can behave?”

The loop inevitably brought them around to the Lightwoods and Branwells. Any attempt to bypass them would have been futile. Asmodeus would only have taken immeasurable pleasure in dragging Magnus back around later to make sure he corrected his oversight.

“Mrs. Lightwood, Mr. and Mrs. Branwell. It’s a pleasure to see you again. I hope you’re enjoying the party.”

“Thank you.”

The two words out of Maryse Lightwood’s mouth sounded more like “drop dead” as she stared at Magnus with cold contempt powdered with Lancôme, Paris.

“It’s such a lovely evening,” said Mrs. Branwell sweetly. “I’m so sorry we can’t stay much longer.” She directed a supplicatory look up at her husband, exposing the threaded bases of her extended eyelashes.

“Yes, right.” Mr. Branwell cleared his throat, rattling the ice cubes in his drink. “I’m afraid my wife is feeling a bit under the weather. Be sure to pass along our apologies to your father.” 

“Of course.” Even though he didn’t buy it for a second, Magnus smiled warmly at Mrs. Branwell. “I hope you feel better soon.”

He steadfastly did not spare a glance at Alec and Lydia when they stepped off the dance floor and joined their parents at the bar.

“Sweetie,” Mrs. Branwell said, reaching out a hand toward her daughter, “I’m not feeling well, so we’re leaving early. Do you want to stay here or come back to the hotel with us?”

“I’m staying with Alec.”

Magnus wanted to get in Lydia’s face and let fly with the first scathing remark on the tip of his tongue. The thing that stopped him was the triumphant smirk on Maryse Lightwood’s face. He would not give that woman the satisfaction of seeing this little charade get to him. 

“See?” Maryse turned to face Mr. and Mrs. Branwell, but Magnus didn’t miss the sideways glance his way. “I told you they’ll be fine. Alec will be more than happy to accompany Lydia back to the hotel later.” She paused. “Right, Alec?”

“Of course, mother.”

Kaelie made an uncouth snorting noise and stifled a guffaw against Magnus’s shoulder.

He pressed her more tightly against his side. Whatever happy pill she had taken was starting to make her unreliable and a little sluggish. She rolled her cheek against his shoulder and looked up with glassy eyes.

“Magnus, can we go now? I think I’m allergic to this bull--”

“Of course, sweetie,” Magnus cut her off. Thinking on his feet, he turned to Mr. Branwell. “I’m afraid your wife isn’t the only one feeling a bit under the weather. Again, it’s been a pleasure.” He looked down at Kaelie. “Come on, darling. It’s time to take you home.”

“Finally! I thought this shi—mph.”

Magnus used an extended chaste kiss to shut her up, turned them around, and shepherded her away before she could say anything that would embarrass both of them.

He thought he heard glass shatter behind him, but he couldn’t be bothered to look back. The catering crew would take care of it. Right now, he needed to get Kaelie out of the public eye before she really started acting inappropriately.

“You are a magnificent menace, my dear,” he grumbled under his breath.

Kaelie tipped her head back with a lopsided grin. “Is that a ‘yes’ on the coat closet?”

“No,” Magnus said emphatically. “It certainly is not.”

He managed to get the address of her hotel out of her and called a ride-share. For a second, he contemplated giving the driver extra cash to walk Kaelie into the lobby, but it didn’t feel right. Magnus resigned himself to a chaperone trip.

When he returned to Bane Towers an hour and a half later, his father was in the middle of his grand speech, replete with dimmed lights and a background video presentation.

Magnus stuck to the shadows and tried to locate Raphael in the crowd.

“Back so soon?”

Magnus froze. He didn’t turn around. His eyes snapped to the stage.

Asmodeus was pontificating about the company’s achievements over the course of the year. His attention was absorbed by his own performance. His gaze roamed too far above the crowd to see anyone.

Magnus released a slow breath and put a smile on his face. He wasn’t sure if Alec was being sarcastic. His tone had been perfectly bland.

“It took a while to wrangle her,” he answered honestly.

By the time he had dropped Kaelie on her bed, she’d had fewer solid bones and more grabby appendages than an octopus. The whole time, she had kept making filthy, detailed comments about watching him and Alec have possessive, jealous, angry sex.

Magnus had barely gotten out of there with his clothes intact, half-hard and humiliated at the thought how much he wanted Alec to want him like that.

“What happened to safe, sane, and consensual?” Alec’s tone was mild.

Magnus jolted. His heart stopped for a moment, wondering how Alec had read his thoughts. He furrowed his brows.

“What are you talking about?”

“The girl was plastered, Magnus. If you just wanted to get off so badly, you could have at least found someone sober to scratch the itch.”

It felt like being struck by lightning. When Magnus finally had the muscle control to turn around with a glare, Alec had already disappeared into the crowd.

Magnus felt like he was shaking apart from the inside. He wanted to run. He wanted to chase after Alec and scream at him. He wanted Cat. He wanted to hide in his room with sour candy vodka and The Sandman. He wanted…

“Magnus? Are you okay?”

Raphael was standing in front of him with a concerned look on his angel face.

Magnus fought to keep his composure. He swallowed, opened his mouth, and grasped Raphael’s forearm. 

“Can you get me out of here?”

Raphael’s brows crinkled and his jaw locked tight as he slipped easily into his scary-adorable pissed off mob boss persona.

“Come on.”

Magnus clamped his hand tight around Raphael’s arm and didn’t let go.

Raphael was strong and calm and solid. It was a little like holding on to him made Magnus a little more solid, too. 

They got into a limousine, drove a few blocks, and pulled up in front of one of the luxury hotels near the park. Magnus was too busy struggling to stay solid to check the name above the canopy.

He followed along blindly until Raphael ushered him through a set of white double doors into a large suite and through the ostentatious living room into the bedroom.

Raphael helped put him to bed much like Magnus had done for Kaelie. Magnus tried not to be a grabby octopus, but in the end, he was too afraid that letting go of Raphael would finally make him fly apart into a million pieces.

“Stay?”

Raphael climbed onto the bed next to him, still fully dressed, and sat down with his back against the headboard, letting Magnus hang on to his forearm like a clingy child.

Magnus closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to pull himself together. He was glad that Raphael didn’t ask him any questions. He didn’t have the energy to explain.

After a while, he felt Raphael shift next to him. Magnus held still and waited for him to pull away. Instead, he stopped moving and Magnus heard the clicking noises of Raphael tapping keys on his phone.

A few seconds later, the phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Raphael answered with a tired sigh. “Hey.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Magnus had to strain his ears to hear Simon’s voice on the other end of the line. He held still and slowed his breathing.

“Huh? Nothing.” Raphael sounded confused. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“You used minor case ‘r’ and ‘u’, and I just know.”

Magnus bit down on the inside of his cheek to stifle a smile.

Raphael sighed. “It’s just … The night was a disaster. Camille was … Camille. She made me wear an old-guy tux, dragged me around like a dog. Now Magnus is in bed with me, and I just really wanted to talk to you. Is that weird?”

“The part where you wanted to call me or the part where Magnus is in bed with you?”

Magnus bit down so hard he tasted copper. He buried his face in the pillow, let go of Raphael’s arm, and turned over onto his other side.

Raphael chuckled. “I think his night was worse than mine. I didn’t see what happened, but Lightwood must have done something, or maybe it was that Willowtree girl. I don’t know. I think he’s asleep now. Either that or he’s faking it really convincingly.”

If Simon said anything in response, Magnus didn’t hear it.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Raphael asked.

“How would you feel if I told you I’m in bed with Maia?”

There was a pause. Magnus could feel Raphael’s body tense up behind him. He didn’t need to see him to know Raphael was clenching his jaw and drawing his shoulders tight.

“Point taken,” Raphael grumbled. “Does it make a difference that I wish you were here?”

“Yeah.” The smile in Simon’s voice was as tangible as sunshine on skin.

“You should see this place,” Raphael said, his voice relaxed and low. “It’s ridiculous. Everything’s just so … tasteless. There are golden couches in the living room, and this bed is so big, we could fit you, me, Magnus, and Cat and still have room for a couple more people.”

“Have you tried rolling from side to side to see how many turns it takes?”

“No.”

“You totally should.”

“No.”

Simon laughed. “Fine. Be the grouch. How was the party other than Camille being a pain?”

Raphael made a grumbling noise. “Boring. Full of pretentious people talking about business and politics.”

“How was the food?”

“Good?”

“You didn’t eat.”

“She kept dragging me around all night,” he whispered harshly. “Plus, they only had those chi-chi frou-frou canapes, and now it’s too late to go out.”

“Raid the mini-fridge. Better yet, make room service bring you real food.”

“It’s almost midnight…”

“Stop making excuses and eat something!”

“Okay! Sheesh.” Raphael swung his legs out of bed and got up.

Magnus had had no idea that Raphael not eating was an ongoing thing. He’d thought it had just been that one time when Raphael had first come to Alicante. Magnus was glad Simon had noticed. He would pay more attention from now on, too.

“I’m going to the fridge,” Raphael narrated his actions in a flippant tone. “They’ve got peanuts. Holy Mother of God, they’re fifteen-dollar peanuts.” He paused to listen to Simon. “Yeah, she’s paying for it.” He chuckled. “Oh, well, when you put it that way.”

Magnus listened quietly as Raphael walked into the living room and flopped onto one of the golden couches with a squeak of protest from the vinyl.

“Peanuts, a bag of chips, and a bottle of soda. Happy now?” Raphael paused. “Good. How was your day, anyway?”

Magnus couldn’t hear Simon’s answer, but there was no need. He’d heard enough. It was audible in every single word of their ordinary conversation.

Those two really loved each other. In the “Honey, I’m home. How was your day?” kind of way, and it was killing Magnus.

It ripped his heart out and tied it around his guts because he wanted the same thing with Alec. He wanted it so badly that it tore him to shreds every time Alexander Lightwood showed how much he didn’t care.

Tonight, Alec had made it perfectly clear what kind of person he thought Magnus was.

His salacious reputation had never bothered Magnus, but now he wished he could refute it. The worst part was that Alec was wrong about what had happened tonight, but he wasn’t wrong about Magnus.

Before Alec, Magnus would have taken Kaelie up on her offer and they would have had high, drunken sex in the coat closet until someone kicked them out.

Hell, even after he’d started seeing Alec, he had almost had sex with Catarina before she’d made him come to his senses.

Despite all that, it killed him that Alec saw him like that.

Something had to give.

Lying on the bed, listening to Raphael in the other room talk softly on the phone with Simon for nearly an hour, Magnus made a decision.

It hurt like hell. He wished he could get up and grab one of those little bottles of vodka or four from the mini-fridge.

Instead, he pretended to be asleep until Raphael crawled back into bed on the other side of the enormous mattress, and then he kept pretending until he eventually drifted off sometime around the crack of dawn.

Magnus waited another whole week until they had finished their midterms. He didn’t remember half of the actual exams because he had been hungover for most of them.

Friday afternoon, the last day before Winter break, was the day of reckoning.

Magnus climbed the serpentine path to the viewpoint at the top of the hill. He stood on the brick terrace in front of the plinth with the bronze map of Alicante Academy and stared at the snowy grounds stretching out ahead of him. It was a pretty spot.

Magnus sent the message he had deleted and re-written countless times over the past few hours.

Alec showed up fifteen minutes later, wearing three layers of black, with his stone mask firmly in place.

Magnus didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, he took a deep breath, shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his camel hair coat, and said what he should have said weeks ago.

“We’re done.”

Alec’s eyes went wide. The stone mask shattered as his face screwed up in surprise and confusion.

“_You’re_ breaking up with _me_?”

Magnus flinched, chuckled, and clenched his fists inside his pockets to keep calm.

“We don’t have a relationship,” he said, struggling to keep his emotions from bleeding through. “You come to me once a week to get hurt and get off. That’s it.”

Alec looked as if Magnus had slapped him across the face.

“That’s not…” He trailed off and gritted his teeth.

It was so damn telling that Alec couldn’t even manage to come up with a rebuttal. There was no denying the truth.

“Isn’t it?” Magnus stuck his finger into the open wound and started digging. “What’s my favorite color? My favorite type of food? What accessory would I not be caught dead wearing? Who’s my best friend?”

“Catarina Loss,” Alec snapped.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows that.”

Alec furrowed his brows with a mulish expression and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why now?”

Did he really still not get it? It defied logic that a guy who never got anything less than an A+ could be so ridiculously imperceptive. Magnus couldn’t deal with this for another minute. He needed it to be over.

“You’re still going to therapy, right?” he asked sharply.

Alec flinched. “Yes. What—”

“Do you plan to stop?”

“No, but I don’t—”

“Then we’re done.”

“You’re not making any sense!” Alec roared, throwing his hands up.

Magnus took a step back. He had never seen Alec get openly angry like this. Every other time things had gotten emotional, Alec had slipped behind a stone mask or simply run out on him between one breath and the next.

This felt refreshingly different. It was still too little too late.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said firmly.

Alec shook his head, mouth open, floundering for words. “So, this is about our deal?”

And there it was. Magnus exploded.

“That’s just fucking it, Alec! A deal. You just didn’t bother to read the fine print.”

Magnus had shown him in a thousand different ways. He’d given Alec everything he’d ever asked for and offered all of himself over and over again.

“What are you—”

But it hadn’t mattered. None of it had made a difference. All Magnus had ever gotten in return was closed doors and empty rooms.

“As long as you got what you wanted, you didn’t give a fuck about anything else. You don’t give a fuck about me.”

“That’s not—"

“But that was always the real deal, wasn’t it? I break your body and you break my heart.”

“What? Magnus, why—”

“Because I’m in love with you, you inconsiderate asshole!”

_Let him choke on that. _

Magnus barreled past him and walked away.


	23. Family Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Winter Holidays with Raphael and Simon. 
> 
> _**Warning:**_ There's going to be some dealing with a homophobic parent in this chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy, and as always, let me know what you think. I truly appreciate every kudo and comment, and if you want to speculate or just go emoji nuts in the comment section, that's fine too.
> 
> ###### 

The open suitcase took up most of the space on the floor. There was barely enough room to get around it between the closet, the bed, and the door. Raphael stared down at the assortment of shirts and slacks he had packed so far, digging his fingers into the small of his back.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked, not for the first time.

A loud groan and a dull thud made him look up behind him.

Simon was stranded on Raphael’s bed, sitting up against the wall with his head leaned heavily on the plaster as he stared at the ceiling.

“Of course, it’s okay.” Simon rolled his head down and stared at him with an exasperated grimace. “I asked her twice, and she said you are more than welcome to stay with us over the break.”

Raphael nodded and turned away from Simon’s expression to stare into his closet.

He couldn’t help it. Elaine Lewis didn’t know him from Adam. Instead of introducing himself properly to Simon’s mother, he was about to inconvenience her for two whole weeks because he couldn’t handle a holiday that would keep happening once a year for the rest of his life.

_What if she hates me at first sight?_

The thought sliced into him like a papercut.

It was one thing to bring a friend home for the holidays. It was something completely different to bring home a boyfriend. Simon’s previous crush had been Clary Fray. Elaine Lewis probably had no idea.

Raphael stared at his drawer of socks and underwear without seeing anything.

“Did you tell her about us?”

Simon got very quiet.

Raphael dropped his head and dug his fingers harder into the small of his back.

Simon sighed. “I didn’t want to do it over the phone. I want her to meet you first and see how great you are.”

Raphael grimaced and grabbed pairs randomly out of the drawer. He could already foresee the disaster. Simon would try to tell her. His mother wouldn’t take it well. They would get into a big confrontation.

Simon wasn’t good with confrontations. They made him spiral.

Raphael’s inability to handle a stupid holiday was going to cause more trouble than he was worth. Why couldn’t he just suck it up?

Just the thought of anything remotely related to Christmas made him feel three seconds from breaking down.

It had started with his last visit to Rosa one week after Thanksgiving. She had not stopped babbling about ‘their’ family and how much fun they would have unwrapping presents under the tree.

Raphael had listened to her with a stone in his chest. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell Rosa he wouldn’t be back to see her until January. 

Then Alicante had turned things up a notch, gearing up for the holidays. Multicolored lights and decorations had appeared on most of the buildings and in the trees around campus. Stars and bells and stockings and reindeer.

The quarterly formal – Winter Wonderland – had been an abomination of snowflakes and glitter. Between Simon, him, and Magnus, they had decided to ditch it after an hour in favor of movie night at the stables. Cat had grudgingly agreed.

Last weekend, Raphael had barely made it through the party at Bane Towers. If Magnus hadn’t fallen apart first, Raphael was sure he would have.

Camille had used the opportunity to tell him he should make his own arrangements for the Winter break because she had booked a cruise before her brother had died and she refused to cancel it.

If it wasn’t for Simon, Raphael would have been forced to stay at school.

The thought of having to go through Mass and whatever passed for Christmas celebrations at Alicante Academy was too much. Raphael couldn’t take it.

When Father Aldertree had asked Raphael to help him put up the nativity scene outside the chapel last night, Raphael had flat-out bolted.

If they had to keep the truth about their relationship from Simon’s mother, he could live with it.

“You don’t have to tell her if you think it’ll upset her.”

“What are you talking about?” Simon scoffed. “Of course, I’ll tell her. She’ll love you. It’ll be fine.”

Raphael could hear the false optimism. He knew Simon wanted to believe what he was saying, but they both knew he was just putting on a brave face. Raphael hated himself for putting him through that.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t.” He looked at the socks in his hands, trying to remember what to do with them. “It’s not like she’d ever know the difference.”

They weren’t like other couples. They didn’t use every spare second to make out. They hardly touched each other aside from the few habitual things they did that helped to calm Simon’s fidgeting. Raphael was certain they could control that impulse in front of Mrs. Lewis.

“I know it. You know it.” Simon’s tone conveyed the glare that prickled at the back of Raphael’s neck. “I’ll tell her when we’re there. Now stop worrying and finish packing.”

Twenty-four hours later, they sat in the backseat of Elaine Lewis’s SUV, stuck in traffic on their way to Brooklyn. Simon’s mom and his sister, Rebecca, had both come to the airport to pick them up.

“Thank you, again, Mrs. Lewis,” Raphael said politely. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

“Are you kidding? It’ll be great.” Mrs. Lewis sounded chipper with excitement. “This is the first time that Simon’s brought home a friend. Well, other than Clary, but she doesn’t count. I’m so excited.”

“I know, right?” Rebecca turned around and stuck her head through the gap between the front seats. “Simon’s told me so much about you, I feel like I already know you. So sorry again about the hug. I totally forgot you’re not a hugger.”

“That’s okay.” Raphael ducked his head.

Rebecca was a lot like Simon. She had the same dark brown hair and brown eyes and the same high energy level. Her features were softer and rounder. It was easy to see her passion for dance. Her motions were graceful and fluid, confident in a way that Simon’s weren’t most of the time.

Especially when she had pranced up to Simon and Raphael and enveloped both of them in a sweeping hug before Raphael had had the chance to evade her.

“I really am grateful,” he insisted. “With the holiday, it’s … harder.”

To his surprise, all three of the Lewis’s faces slipped from their nearly identical toothy grins.

“Oh, we get it,” Rebecca said with a look of sympathy before she glanced over at her mother. “Right, mom?”

“Yeah.”

Elaine Lewis stared steadfastly out the windshield, but her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

It hit Raphael like a smack upside the head. Simon’s dad. They had lost him when Simon was seven.

He flinched when he felt Simon’s fingers on the back of his hand. His eyes flew to Rebecca, but she didn’t seem to notice. Raphael started to pull away when he realized their hands were hidden under their coats on the seat between them. He breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax.

Simon laced their fingers together and squeezed. “I promise you won’t have to deal with any of it. At all. I might beg my mom to make us some latkes later because I missed Hanukkah this year. Other than that, it’ll be just the four of us and a lot of Chinese take-out. We don’t even have to leave the house if you don’t want to. I have plenty of games and movies to keep us entertained the whole time.”

“You’re not planning to keep him all to yourself, right?” Rebecca protested. “You know, sharing is caring. Like, remember when I shared my Nicholas Cage collection with you?”

“Becky!” Simon’s fingers clenched around him. “Raphael is not a movie collection. I’m not going to force him to hang out with you. He doesn’t even like dancing.”

Raphael furrowed his brows. “I never said that.”

“Really?” Simon perked up. “I thought you didn’t because … Well, remember Magnus’s birthday?”

“That’s because you two were—”

Raphael stopped himself before he could blurt out that Simon and Magnus had been plastered and had nearly broken both their fool heads on the cemented stable floor trying to dance with each other. In the end, it had taken both Cat’s and Raphael’s considerable strength to pry them apart and distract them before they caused themselves permanent damage.

He evaded Mrs. Lewis’s suspicious glance in the rearview mirror.

“Oh.” Becky was all ears and nearly trying to crawl into the backseat with them. “Do tell. I’d love to hear more about Magnus. He sounds like such a fun guy in Simon’s emails.”

“Magnus is like a glitter bomb,” Simon said with a grin. “I don’t think Cabo is going to be the same after he’s done with it.”

Becky’s brows flew high with excitement. “He’s spending the holidays in Cabo?”

Mrs. Lewis’s brows went in the opposite direction on her face. “Alone?”

“Yeah,” Simon and Raphael said at the same time.

Simon’s expression was closer to his sister’s while Raphael knew his own skewed more toward that of Mrs. Lewis.

“I tried to talk him out of it,” Raphael grumbled.

“Like anyone could talk Magnus out of anything.” Simon rolled his eyes. “Besides, by the time he told us about it, he was pretty much on his way out the door.”

“That’s because he knew Cat would have stopped him if she’d known about it earlier.”

“Oh, yeah. Cat’s your other friend, right?” Becky interjected. “You know, I’m so glad you finally made real friends.” Off of Simon’s outraged noise, she amended, “I mean, not that Clary wasn’t real, but… you know what I mean?”

She looked at Raphael as if she expected him to be able to explain it.

“No.”

Becky laughed. “Oh my God, you weren’t kidding.” She disappeared into the front seat with a fit of rolling giggles.

Raphael slowly turned his head and raised one eyebrow at Simon.

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing.”

Raphael saw Simon bite down on a grin as he turned his face out the window.

Mrs. Lewis did end up making latkes, but they still ordered a mountain of Chinese food. After dinner, they spent most of the night playing board games and watching horror movies. Becky showed Raphael how to dance ‘properly’, all the while making fun of Simon’s ‘lack of good posture’.

Before Raphael’s brain had a chance to catch up, it was long past midnight. The Lewis family had swept him up in their routine as easily as if he’d always been a part of it.

Until everyone had gone to bed and turned out the lights.

Raphael was lying awake on the semi-comfortable air mattress next to Simon’s bed, staring through the darkness at the drawers of Simon’s desk.

There was no escaping the fact that it was Christmas break and he was not where he was supposed to be.

The house was too quiet.

He should be hearing the low-key ruckus of his younger siblings failing to keep it down on the other side of the wall. His dad’s snoring should be coming up through the floor vents from his parents’ bedroom downstairs. Then the door would creak open, very quietly, and his mom…

Raphael clawed into the pillow that smelled like artificial mountain breeze, buried his face in it, and held his breath. His stomach clenched as he tried to keep quiet.

Ice-cold feet hit the back of his legs. Raphael barked out a noise somewhere between a sob and a yell before he snapped his mouth shut.

“What the--” he pressed through clenched teeth.

“Sorry,” Simon mumbled sleepily from behind him, pulling his legs back. “Heard you.”

Unlike his frigid legs, Simon’s chest was warm against Raphael’s back.

Simon pulled the comforter off the bed, spread it over both of them, and rested his arm loosely around Raphael’s hip.

“You okay?”

Raphael laced their fingers and pulled Simon’s arm up around his chest. Then he shook his head.

Simon made a low humming noise and pressed a kiss to the back of his head.

“What the hell is this?”

Raphael froze. Simon’s arm twitched painfully around him.

Elaine Lewis stood in the doorway. Despite the darkness, he could clearly see the expression of shock and disgust on her bird-like face.

“Simon,” she barked. “Living room. Now.”

Raphael rushed to untangle himself, but the blankets were caught around both of them and Simon was all limbs and no coordination.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lewis!”

She made a wordless noise and disappeared into the hallway.

“Mom! What the hell?”

Simon almost kicked him in the ribs as he crawled back onto the bed and fished for his glasses on the bedside table.

“Simon don’t—”

“No. You don’t.” He looked furious. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Raphael sat frozen on the air mattress while Simon stormed out after his mother, wearing nothing but a white T-shirt and Superman boxer shorts.

This was exactly what he had been afraid would happen.

He took a deep breath and wiped one hand over his face. Then he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans, put on socks and a sweater, and braced himself to do some serious damage control.

By the time Raphael came down the stairs into the living room, Elaine Lewis had already worked herself up into a screaming frenzy.

“This is not happening! Not to you! Not in my house!” She pulled her bathrobe tightly around herself and tipped her head like a bird of prey ready to strike. “He has to leave.”

Simon’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his mother. “You’re kidding.”

Raphael barely even noticed when Rebecca stepped up behind him in the middle of the stairs and put a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a sleep-slurred voice.

“I’m sorry,” Raphael said quietly. “I… We …” He cringed. “Simon and I are more than friends. Your mom found out, and she’s upset.”

“Seriously?” Becky stormed past Raphael down the stairs. “Mother!”

Raphael closed his eyes and buried his face in his hand. Instead of doing damage control, he had just thrown gasoline onto the fire.

“If he goes, I go!” Simon shouted.

“You’re throwing them out?!” Becky screeched.

“I will not allow this kind of sordidness in my house!”

“Oh, really?” Becky spat coldly. “Someone who used to be surrounded by empty scotch bottles maybe shouldn’t throw stones.”

“Becky!” Simon snapped.

“Raphael has to leave.” Mrs. Lewis crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine!” Simon threw his hands up and whirled around. “We’re out of here.”

Raphael stopped on the bottom landing, lost for words. Where the hell would they go? It was going on 01:00 am. They were seventeen years old. They had nowhere to go.

Simon stopped next to him on his way up the stairs.

“It’ll be okay.” His eyes flitted all over the place, having a hard time staying focused on Raphael. “I’ll go pack our things.”

“Simon…”

Simon cut him off with a quick peck on the cheek that was obviously meant to make a point to his mother. Then he bolted up the stairs three at a time, stumbling on the way.

Becky made a huffy noise. “Great job, _mom_.”

She glared at Mrs. Lewis and ran after Simon up the stairs. Clearly, Raphael hadn’t been the only one to notice that Simon had started to spiral.

“Mrs. Lewis,” Raphael said, trying to figure out a way to fix this.

“Raphael, I’m sorry.” Simon’s mom looked at him coldly. “I’m sure you’re a fine young man otherwise, but I can’t allow this to go on.”

“Look,” he said calmly, “I understand that you’re upset. We never meant for you to find out like this.”

“Stop, right there.” She pointed a thin, talon-like finger at his face. “My son is not gay. He’s Jewish.”

Raphael pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. As nonsensical as it may have sounded to anyone else, he understood perfectly where Mrs. Lewis was coming from. He still struggled to reconcile his own faith with his feelings for Simon.

“I’m a devout Catholic,” he said quietly. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m in love with your son.”

It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. There was no taking it back, now.

Mrs. Lewis scoffed. “You’re seventeen. You’d be ‘in love’ with any beautiful boy who looks your way.”

Raphael’s brows furrowed. He tucked his tongue behind his teeth and squared his jaw. A part of him wanted to lash out. He wanted to throw his reality in her face and watch her realize just how wrong she was. But this wasn’t about him. It was about Simon.

He settled for, “You’re wrong.”

She barely acknowledged him, staring past him up the stairs where Simon had disappeared.

“This is going to destroy him,” she said. “He’s not… He can’t handle this.”

Raphael jerked in surprise. Mrs. Lewis was wrong about that, too.

“He’s stronger than you think.”

Mrs. Lewis pulled her gaze back from the upstairs hallway to glare at him.

Before she could say anything, Simon and Becky appeared at the top of the stairs.

Simon had thrown on jeans and a hoodie. Raphael noticed the straps of a backpack across his shoulders. He was carrying Raphael’s suitcase in his right hand.

Becky’s arm was wrapped around Simon’s shoulders. She glared down at Mrs. Lewis before she pointedly turned to her brother.

“You text me as soon as you get there, okay?” she said loudly and kissed his hairline.

Mrs. Lewis gaped. “Where do you think you’re going?”

As much as he hated her tone, Raphael also wanted an answer to that question.

Simon clomped down the stairs and stopped next to him.

“Raphael and I are going to stay with Clary,” he announced before he turned his head toward Raphael with a shaky smile and jittery eyes. “Get your coat, babe. The Uber should be here in a couple minutes.”

It was painfully obvious that Simon was hanging on by a thread.

Raphael slouched down the stairs and quickly put on his boots, coat, and scarf. He wanted to apologize again, try to smooth things over, but he knew if he said anything right now, it would only make things worse.

Behind his back, Simon’s voice was the essence of strained control.

“We’re leaving,” he said, “but he’s my boyfriend and I love him. That’s not going anywhere, so you’re just going to have to learn to deal with it.”

Simon’s words were still echoing through Raphael’s head by the time they climbed out of their ride-share in a nearby corner of Brooklyn.

Simon stopped him with a hand on his elbow at the bottom of the stone steps belonging to a historic brownstone.

“So, Clary’s very…” He cringed and chewed his lips. “Expressive.”

Raphael nodded impassively. He did remember the girl’s dramatic antics when she had mistakenly believed Magnus had cheated on Raphael at the Fall Formal.

Simon took a hold of both his arms. “She’ll make a fuss. Can you let her? Or at least, try not to kill her, please?”

Raphael rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Thank you.” Simon leaned forward and pressed a quick, firm kiss to his mouth. “Okay, come on.”

There was no fuss. Clary Fray opened the door dressed in faded blue jeans and an ancient looking college sweater. Her hair was a mess of straggly auburn strands. Her pale face was splotchy red even where it wasn’t covered in freckles. She looked like she had been crying.

“Fray?” Simon stepped forward.

“Hey, Si.” Her voice wobbled. “Hi, Raphael. Come in.”

She left the door wide open and walked away.

The apartment was clean and cluttered with lively decor. There was an orgy of evidence that it was inhabited by at least one artist. Easels and drop cloths sat in a corner by the windows and the shelves were stuffed with painting supplies and books about art.

Raphael closed the front door behind them and followed Simon to a cozy looking living area.

Clary flopped down into a worn-out armchair, curled herself into a ball, and motioned one hand toward the couch perpendicular to it.

Raphael waited for Simon to sit down first before he sank into the squishy behemoth beside him. He looked around the open floorplan, surprised they were still alone.

Simon craned his neck toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Is your mom asleep?”

Clary shook her head. She wiped her hand quickly over her eyes. “Nope.”

“Fray, what’s going on?”

Clary made a pained noise in her throat. “She got arrested.”

“What?” Simon’s knee started to bounce at a mile a minute.

Clary grimaced as tears started to stream down her splotchy face.

“You didn’t see the news?” she squeaked.

Raphael fought a perplexed smile. He had no idea what was happening, but for once he was oddly okay with the drama. It gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the fact that he and Simon had basically been kicked out into the street.

“That’s impossible!” Simon leaned forward and placed one hand on Clary’s knee. “Jocelyn wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why would anyone want to arrest her?”

“Apparently, she’s Percival,” Clary blubbered, starting to laugh even while she was crying her eyes out. “When she was pregnant with me, she stole this famous goblet that’s like the model for the grail in Da Vinci’s Last Supper.” She shook her head. “And then she ran and she hid it and now they found it. And I’m supposed to be with Dot right now. I lied to the police so they wouldn’t take me to social services, so they’re probably going to come back and arrest me, too.” She laughed through her tears some more and shrugged her shoulders. “But you guys are more than welcome to stay here until they do.”

“Jesus, Fray!”

Simon pushed himself out of the couch, dropped down on the arm of the overstuffed chair, and pulled the girl into a hug.

Raphael watched Clary Fray throw her arms around his boyfriend and cling on like she was trying to crawl into him.

Simon patted her shoulders and rubbed her back and muttered comforting nonsense into her hair.

Raphael waited for the nauseating jealousy to hit him. It never came.

It might have something to do with the tortured expression on Simon’s face. His big brown puppy eyes were glued to Raphael’s the whole time, practically begging him to tell Simon how to fix this.

Then again, maybe it was just that Raphael could still hear the resolute tone when Simon had told off his own mother for throwing them out.

_I love him. That’s not going anywhere._

Raphael rolled his eyes and raised his hands with a helpless shrug.

Breakfast the next morning was weird. Simon and Raphael had slept on the pull-out couch together. There hadn’t been anyone to tell them not to. Clary had slept alone in her mother’s bed.

Now they were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee that Simon had made after Clary had completely messed up the first pot.

She kept shooting sideways glances at Raphael every so often, but her main focus was still firmly on Simon.

“So, you and Raphael,” she finally said. “When did that happen?”

Raphael snorted derisively and felt a sharp kick to his ankle under the table in retaliation.

“It’s only been since Halloween,” Simon said as if it was no big deal.

“Shit.” Clary gaped. “Almost two months and I didn’t know? I’m a rotten friend.”

Raphael was surprised she admitted it. For someone who was supposedly Simon’s best friend, she had certainly made herself scarce from the moment she’d hooked up with Jace Herondale at the beginning of the school year.

A pang of misery shot through Raphael at the thought that his own best friend had ended their relationship in a much more direct fashion around the same time. He couldn’t help but wonder if Lily had found herself a boyfriend, too. 

Simon shrugged. “You’ve had a lot of stuff going on.”

Raphael sneered. To his continued surprise, Clary didn’t accept the easy out that Simon had offered her.

She shook her head fiercely.

“That’s no excuse,” she said. “I got so caught up with Jace, and then we hardly even talked anymore. I’m so sorry, Simon. I’ve really been a lousy friend lately.” 

“It’s okay.” Simon shrugged. “You’re still my bestie. I forgive you.”

_Of course, you do._

Raphael hid his face behind his over-sized coffee mug.

Simon would probably forgive the girl if she confessed to murder. He had the biggest heart out of anyone Raphael had ever met. He could fit the whole world in it and still find a way to make more room if need be.

“I can’t believe your mom got arrested for art theft.”

Raphael stifled his snort of laughter by clearing his throat. Unfortunately, the size of Simon’s heart had clearly left no space for a filter between his brain and mouth. 

Clary smiled and shook her head. “I can’t believe your mom kicked you guys out.”

The betrayed look on Simon’s face broke Raphael’s heart. He tightened his grip on the coffee mug and clenched his hand on the table into a tight fist.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I think your mom is just scared. She didn’t mean it.”

Simon shifted closer and placed a warm hand over Raphael’s. He brushed his calloused thumb over the knuckles.

“That still doesn’t make it right,” he grumbled.

Raphael loosened his fingers and made a non-committal humming noise into his coffee.

A sharp knock on the door had all three of them jump in their seats.

Clary’s eyes went wide. Her fingers clenched around her coffee mug.

“Shit, the police.” she whispered.

The doorbell rang. Several times. Insistently.

“You can’t possibly still be asleep, guys!” Rebecca’s incredulous tone pierced through the front door. “It’s like 10:30 in the morning!”

Simon burst out of his chair and ran to open the door.

Becky came in, carrying two large brown paper bags with the Bagel Company logo on the front.

“I saw the news,” she said after she dumped the bags on the kitchen table and pulled Clary out of her chair and into a crushing hug. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

“More coffee?” Clary said helplessly.

“You got it.”

Becky marched over to the coffee maker and opened the cabinets as if she was at home.

Simon joined her to pull out plates and knives.

“Mom’s not coming?”

Becky sniffed. “No.”

Simon hung his head and busied himself with setting the table. He pulled three different types of cream cheese out of one of the bags. 

Raphael didn’t feel the least bit hungry.

Becky pushed the button on the coffee maker and turned around with a resolute expression on her face.

“Anyway,” she said with a shrug. “Why’d you guys look like you got busted just now?” 

Clary ducked her head. “I thought you were the police.”

Becky’s brows flew up. “What would they want with you?”

Clary sighed. “I lied to them.”

“About what?” Becky’s tone was suddenly sharp.

“I said I had someone to look after me.”

“Oh,” Becky said with a sigh of relief. “Okay. If that’s all.”

“How can you say that?” Clary looked at Simon’s sister like she’d lost her mind. “They’re going to find out I lied, and then they’ll arrest me and call social services.”

Becky snorted. “They probably called social services as soon as they got back to the station, hon.”

Clary’s eyes went wide as saucers and her mouth dropped open on a panicky breath.

“Chill,” Becky said calmly. “You’re seventeen. You have a roof over your head. You told them you had someone to look after you. Trust me, your case got an immediate shuffle to the bottom of the pile. They probably won’t get to you until after New Year’s.”

“How would you know that?” Clary insisted.

“I just know,” Becky said with a grim expression.

Raphael cleared his throat. “She’s right.”

He frowned at the sturdy brown wood of the kitchen table in front of him. He could feel three pairs of eyes staring at him. Simon’s knee was bouncing a mile a minute.

Raphael didn’t have it in him to slip his foot over and stop him.

“When the cops told me about my family, they left me at my best friend’s house. I stayed there until Camille’s driver picked me up. I never actually saw anyone from social services.”

The memory twisted his stomach. He still had no idea how the police had even found him at Lily’s house that morning. Maybe a neighbor had known? His whole family had been dead, so they couldn’t have told the cops where he was.

“Raphael?”

Simon’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Simon’s hand was back on his tightly clenched fist, thumb brushing over his knuckles. 

Raphael shook himself out of it and raised his head.

The look coming at him from those big brown eyes made him want to ruffle Simon’s hair and call him puppy.

“You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Sorry.”

The bouncing stopped, and Simon’s foot hooked around his ankle.

Raphael wasn’t sure what had made him do it.

Maybe it had been the way Simon and Clary kept reminding him of how things had used to be between him and Lily. Before.

Maybe it was because Jace Herondale had showed up on his motorcycle, a couple hours after breakfast, acting like a slapdash blend of all the cool boyfriend clichés you’d expect from a fictional character on TV.

Maybe it was because Raphael couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he and Simon still hadn’t really talked about last night. They’d both said things, but they hadn’t said them to each other.

Whatever the reason, Raphael had ended up borrowing Becky’s MetroCard and had made the tedious trek from Park Slope to Harlem.

He walked along the chain-link fence securing the construction site on 129th and Lennox Ave. His glance passed over a large stack of fresh lumber under a white tarp and a behemoth orange backhoe parked in the middle of a barren mud pit.

He felt numb.

Up four blocks and down the side street, he ended up in front of the dirty gray stone building with the old-fashioned paneled windows. The scuffed metal plate by the entrance had twelve doorbells divided evenly across two columns. He pushed the second from the bottom on the left.

The buzzer sounded without anyone checking who it was. The intercom had been a broken piece of crap for as long as Raphael could remember.

He let himself in and took the creaky wooden stairs instead of bothering to wait for the elevator. Unsurprisingly, the front door to the left apartment on the second floor was closed when he got there.

Raphael took a deep breath, raised his hand, and knocked.

The door opened just wide enough for someone to stick their head out.

Mr. Chen looked exactly the same as the last time Raphael had seen him. He was a skinny, balding man with a square chin and narrow eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“Raphael? What are you doing here?”

He didn’t sound mean, just surprised.

Raphael shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and shrugged.

“I’m … staying with my … friend. In Brooklyn.”

There were too many things he didn’t want to say. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He had no idea why he’d even come here.

Mr. Chen looked uncomfortable. He held the door close to his body. He didn’t say anything, but his thin lips twitched like he was trying to find the right words.

Raphael sighed.

“I know she doesn’t want to see me,” he blurted. “That’s okay. Just tell her that I miss her, but I’m going to be okay, and, whatever else is going on, I hope she’s okay, too.”

That was really all he wanted. He just wanted to know that she was okay. That some tiny little piece of his old life was still there, intact, and hadn’t been destroyed in a fiery explosion.

He nodded to himself, turned around, and left.

He trotted back down the creaky stairs and out the door. He turned in the opposite direction of where he’d come from and started walking, trying to figure out a way to the bus stop that didn’t require him to see the mud pit of his family home again.

“RAPHAEL!”

Her scream stopped him about ten feet from the end of her street. He turned around.

Lily was pelting toward him, her sneakers kicking up salt and grit on the dirty sidewalk. She’d never run that fast for as long as Raphael had known her. Not for anything.

She stopped right in front of him with her hands on her knees. Her silky black hair was pulled up in one of those buns that were meant to be messy. Her coat was wide open over her field hockey team sweater and a pair of faded jean leggings. Her breath puffed in white clouds into the air between them.

She lifted her heart-shaped face and pushed her arm hard against it, covering her button nose and bright-red cheeks. Her chocolate brown eyes were as big and round as he’d ever seen them. She wasn’t crying, yet, but Raphael knew it was coming. 

He tilted his head and looked down at her. The lump in his throat made it hard to breathe.

Lily made a squeaky noise. Her arm dropped from her mouth, and the tears came tumbling out.

“I fell in love with you,” she whined so thinly it was hard to understand. “I was going to tell you that night at the concert. But then I chickened out. And then your family. And then you were just gone. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant… I just couldn’t… I didn’t know how to…”

Raphael felt the pressure at the back of his eyes. She was his best friend and he’d broken her heart without knowing, and then she’d gone and broken his. The lump in his throat grew three sizes bigger.

“You idiot!” was the only thing that made it out as he pulled her into a hug.

“I know,” she squeaked into his shoulder, digging her nails into his back through the coat. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m sorry.”

“I missed you. I missed you so much. You’re my best friend.”

“I know! I know. I’m sorry. I missed you, too. So much.”

He held on tight, stuck his nose in her hair and breathed deep. It still smelled like that sickly-sweet vanilla shampoo that made him want to barf.

“God, I missed you.”

He shook his head and pulled away just far enough that he could look at her. She was still the same. She was still his Lily. He really, really didn’t want to let her go right now.

“Did you bring your MetroCard?”

Every part of her pretty face scrunched up in a hideous grimace of bewilderment.

“Um, no?” She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t even have grabbed a coat if Dad hadn’t thrown it on top of me on the way out.”

Raphael chuckled, feeling his chest swell up with affection. The temperature was barely above freezing today.

“Idiot.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She wiped her nose on her coat sleeve. “Why would I need my MetroCard?”

Raphael smiled. “Because I don’t want to let you go, and there’s someone I really want you to meet.”

He wanted to bring her back to Clary Fray’s place. He couldn’t wait for her to meet Simon.

His boyfriend.

_Shit. _

“Actually,” he said. “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.”

He scowled, exasperated with his own stupidity.

Lily’s sweeping brows furrowed before they rose high on her forehead. She choked on a laugh. Then she shook her head and just started laughing at him.

“You dumbass,” she said between hysterical giggles. “I literally just got done confessing that I had the worst unrequited crush on you.” She smacked his shoulder for good measure. “And you’re asking me to come meet your girlfriend?”

Raphael winced. “Boyfriend.”

“Dumbass!”

The punch she had delivered with that insult was going to leave a bruise on his arm.

Lily wrapped her hands around the same arm and dug her nails in. Then she plopped her chin on his shoulder and gave him an imperious look.

“If you’re going to drag me all the way out to Brooklyn to meet your _boyfriend_,” she said, putting extra emphasis on the word, “the least you can do is pay for my ride.”


	24. Family Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Part 2 of the Family Winter vacation with Simon and Raphael. I hope it won't disappoint. Some left-field stuff. Some bit of drama.
> 
> I love every kudo and all feedback. Let me know what you think, even if it's just a string of emoji. I'll figure it out :-). Enjoy!
> 
> ###### 

Simon shifted on the couch, keeping his eyes glued to the TV screen. He clenched the controller tightly between his hands, fingers and thumbs mashing the buttons.

Talking was difficult. Taking kill shots from hidden sniper points on a map he’d played a million times was easy.

Jace Herondale was going to die a thousand deaths until Raphael got back from Harlem.

Simon had wanted to go with him, but Raphael had said he needed to be alone for a while, so Simon had relented.

Becky had left not long after, going home with the promise that she’d talk some sense into their mom.

Now, Simon was stuck on the same couch as Clary’s asshole boyfriend, without any buffers, while Clary was taking the longest shower in the history of modern personal hygiene.

Clary insisted that Jace wasn’t a bad guy. When she and Simon had made up, after their fight back at the beginning of the school year, she had explained why the guy had acted like a homophobic dick at the stable party.

Simon had believed her. Mostly. Maybe. It had sounded a little too much like the plot of an over the top TV drama to ring totally true.

It didn’t help that neither Jace nor Clary had put in any effort since then to prove that there was more to him than his shitty first impression.

Sure, Jace had tagged along to help with Raphael’s book drive when Simon had called in Clary for reinforcements, but that was guaranteed because of Clary, not any kind of autonomous good-guy tendencies on Jace’s part.

Hence, relentless gruesome combat kills in a shanty town somewhere in a fictional Middle Eastern desert until Clary got out of the shower.

Somewhere around death number seven, Jace started to grumble under his breath. A few more after that, the grumbling turned into profanity spurting out of his mouth, getting nastier by the minute.

Simon wanted to stop. He could feel himself getting tense. The angrier Jace got, the more it frayed at Simon’s nerves. He’d just have to figure out another way to deal with…

“Goddamnit! Again?! You stupid fuh—”

“Fuck, no!”

Simon threw his controller and whirled around. He jumped on top of Jace and got right in his face, both fists clenched in Jace’s shirt, pushing him into the back of the couch.

“No, you hear me?” he snarled through gritted teeth, shaking with anger and anxiety. “I don’t give a shit who you are. You’re not ever using that word in front of me again. I’ll punch your teeth in if it’s the last thing I do, you homophobic piece of shit!”

Jace stared up at him, weird-colored eyes big as saucers and mouth agape. He was still holding the controller in his right hand. His left hand was trapped under Simon’s knee on the couch. He snapped his mouth shut, clenched his jaw, and gulped.

“I was going to say fucker,” he said in a quiet voice.

Simon sniffed derisively, still shaking with tension. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m not a homophobe.”

Jace couldn’t even look him in the eyes. The guy was staring at whatever-the-fuck over Simon’s left shoulder.

“Bullshit. Why else would you use that word? Twice!”

Simon still remembered. He’d been sitting up against a bale of hay like a ragdoll, trying not to spiral, while Jace had insulted first Alec Lightwood and then Magnus.

Jace clenched his jaw again, closed his eyes, and raised his brows. “It was the worst thing I could think of.” He shrugged his right shoulder. “I was trying to make Alec hate me. Seemed like the quickest way to do it.”

Simon exhaled a shocked noise. “The fuck is wrong with you people?”

First Alec Lightwood with Magnus, and now this guy? What kind of a messed-up person went and deliberately acted like a jackass?

Simon let go of Jace’s shirt and pushed him in the chest. Then he swung himself off of Jace’s lap and dropped back onto the couch beside him.

“Is it the money? Does too much money fuck you up in the head?”

Jace laughed. It sounded cracked and a little edgy.

“Probably,” he said. “But money had nothing to do with it. Alec and I...” He sighed. “We’re family. We’ve been best friends forever. Then stuff happened. At another party. He…” Jace made a pained noise. “He confessed his feelings. Kissed me. I reacted badly. It was so stupid. I never should have let him run off… Then he went and did something really fucking ...” Jace went quiet. He cleared his throat. “I thought if he hates me, maybe he won’t do that again.”

Simon furrowed his brows and turned his head on the backrest of the couch to look at Jace.

The guy had his arms crossed so tightly in front of his chest it was a miracle he could still breathe. His cool guy haircut had gotten messed up, greasy blond strands hanging low over his forehead. His weird-colored eyes looked a little wet.

Simon’s knee started to bounce. “You told Clary all of that?”

It matched with the story she’d told him. It was just hard to believe a guy like Jace would have shared all that without the threat of a fist to the face.

Jace smirked. “Once she let me get a word in.”

“Huh?”

Jace uncrossed his arms and rubbed his hands over his face. He shoved his hair back up and kept his fingers at the back of his head as he stared blankly ahead.

“That night,” he said, “when she came after me? She chewed me out. Real good.”

Simon laughed. That sounded like the Clary he knew. Not the exasperating babble of excuses Simon remembered hearing from her the morning after the party.

“You deserved it.”

“I know.” Jace sighed and shook his head. “Still do.”

Simon did a double take. “What do you mean?”

Jace dropped his head heavily onto the backrest of the couch.

“Alec and I haven’t really talked since then. Unless you count letting him beat me up or getting him through... a family emergency.”

“Dude!”

Simon made a choked gagging noise in his throat, trying to encompass everything he wanted to yell in a single sound before the word vomit started, but he never got the chance to say anything.

Clary stepped into the living room, dressed in an over-sized wool sweater, skinny jeans, and fluffy socks. She was still roughly drying her hair with a towel.

“Guys, what was that bang?” She stopped and stared at something on the floor. “Okay, which one of you two jackasses threw the controller? Those are not cheap!”

Simon ducked his head and hunched his shoulders. He hadn’t meant to do that.

Jace quickly shoved his controller under Simon’s hand and swiftly got up from the couch.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” he wheedled, bending down to pick up the controller from the floor. “Simon’s been killing me, and I lost my shit for a second. I didn’t mean to. I swear it won’t happen again. Forgive me?”

Simon stared in bafflement and a little bit of awe.

Jace was doing his best impression of a scolded kid, looking up at Clary from under his lashes and scrubbing a nervous hand through the buzz-cut hair at the back of his head.

Clary was giving him the narrow-eyed evil green stare of death. She snatched the controller out of his hand.

“Simon is a pro. If you can’t handle losing, don’t try to go up against him.” 

Jace ducked his head even further. “I’m really sorry, sweetie.”

Clary made a little growly noise that sounded like an angry kitten.

“Fine,” she said, “I forgive you.” Then she pointed a finger in Jace’s face and gave him the Dracula glare. “But only this once. Let Simon tell you what happens to people who mess with my stuff.”

Simon suppressed a snort. “You don’t want to know.”

The doorbell rang.

“I got it!” Simon jumped up from the couch.

It had to be Raphael. Finally, his boyfriend was back.

He opened the door and froze.

Raphael was not alone. He was smiling bigger than Simon had ever seen.

“Hey.”

Simon made a choked noise in his throat that might have passed for a greeting.

“Who is it?” Clary’s voice called out somewhere behind him.

Simon made another non-verbal noise.

“It’s me,” Raphael said, moving past Simon into the apartment with his companion still hanging on his arm. “I brought a friend. I hope that’s okay. Lily, this is Simon.”

Lily. Raphael’s best friend, Lily.

Raphael had never mentioned that she was pretty.

She wasn’t just pretty. She was Asian girl band gorgeous. She even had the cutesy hairdo with the wispy strands sticking out and the big brown eyes with the insanely long black lashes. Her hand was clasped around Raphael’s arm with tiny French tipped fingernails, and she came up just to his shoulder, and they looked like a teen celebrity couple on a glossy magazine cover.

_Fuck._

A cold, jagged, heavy rock dropped into Simon’s stomach.

“Hi,” he heard himself say.

Two hours later, things had only gotten worse. Clary was cuddled up in Jace’s lap on the armchair, forcing Simon, Raphael, and Lily to share the couch in the oldest awkward constellation known to humankind: Raphael smack in the middle with Lily on one side and Simon on the other.

Simon seemed to be the only one who had noticed. Everyone else was having a great time, sharing stories from ‘remember when’.

Raphael hadn’t stopped smiling. He actually laughed at one of Clary’s horribly embarrassing ‘tales from the crib’, aka stories about Simon and Clary in kindergarten. 

Simon had had no idea it was possible to feel two completely opposing things at the exact same time. He was thrilled to see Raphael genuinely happy, and his laughter was nothing short of heart-tripping.

At the same time, the jagged rock in Simon’s stomach was tearing up his insides because he couldn’t fool himself for a minute about the reason that Raphael looked like that.

Lily.

The girl was not just devastatingly pretty. She was funny. She could spin a story in vivid detail without pausing for a breath or stumbling over her words. Her hands moved animatedly through the air as she talked. Every so often, she’d place her French tipped fingers on Raphael’s shoulder or on his knee.

Simon’s knee had been bouncing on and off since they had sat down. He had tried to keep it still. He had pulled the offending leg up onto the couch and trapped it at the ankle under his thigh. Then he had lost focus and his other knee had started up where the first one had left off.

Each time, Raphael put his hand on Simon’s thigh to make it stop. As soon as it did, he took his hand away.

Simon wished he would just keep it there. He wanted to hold it in place with his own hand, but he vividly remembered Raphael’s reaction in the car on the way home from the airport yesterday.

If it hadn’t been for their coats, Raphael would have pulled away. There were no coats here to hide behind, and Raphael hadn’t introduced Simon as his boyfriend.

Simon wasn’t sure he could handle it if he tried to reach out and Raphael pulled away right now.

Raphael’s hand was back on his knee again.

Simon stopped bouncing and shoved his own hand under his thigh.

Clary giggled. “And so, Simon spent the rest of the day telling everyone who even looked at me funny that he’s my daddy.”

“Kinky,” Jace drawled, resting his chin over her shoulder and waggling his brows. “And at such a young age.”

“Oh, shut up!” Clary put a hand flat on his face and pushed him back. “Perv.”

Jace snorted and tightened his arms around her waist. “You like it.”

Clary’s face went bright red, but then she sucked in a deep breath, whirled around, and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

“If you don’t quit, I’m gonna show you who’s your daddy!”

There was a very awkward pause.

Then Lily burst out with a laugh that sounded like a donkey with a stomach ache.

“You guys are so funny!” She collapsed against Raphael’s shoulder and grinned up at him with her pretty face and her gorgeous big brown eyes. “Can we keep them?”

Raphael smiled back at her and patted her head.

“You can keep those two,” he rumbled, nodding his head toward the armchair.

Lily stuck her tongue out. “Fine.”

Simon’s stomach plummeted.

Lily Chen didn’t leave until her father picked her up at 9:00 pm that night. Jace didn’t leave at all. He and Clary said good night and disappeared into Jocelyn’s bedroom together.

Raphael and he were finally alone, but it wasn’t at all the relief that Simon had hoped it would be.

His insides were sliced to ribbons and his mind was going a million miles an hour around the same unvoiced thought it had been circling since Raphael had come back from Harlem with Lily on his arm.

“I’m tired. I’m going to make up the bed.”

He didn’t wait for Raphael to agree or disagree before he pulled the coffee table out of the way. He kept his eyes on the task.

“Sure.” Raphael sounded hesitant.

Simon’s shoulders tensed up. He could feel something coming. He had no idea what it was, except that it was bad. That terrible gut instinct he had for those things told him so.

He grabbed the pillows off the couch and tossed them onto the armchair.

“You were really happy today.”

He clamped his lips together, trying to stop the words. If Raphael wasn’t saying anything, he shouldn’t push it. Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut and wait for the other shoe to drop on its own? Did he really have to pull it down faster?

Raphael stepped up next to him and helped him pull out the metal bed-frame from the couch.

“Yeah,” he said, still with that heart-tripping joy in his voice. “I never thought it would work out that way. If someone had told me a week ago that today would happen?” He chuckled. Then he sobered up with a wistful expression. “I missed her so much.”

Simon felt the jagged rock cut through his heart.

“She’s good for you. Makes you happy. Are you two…” The question got stuck in his throat. “It’s good that you two worked it out.”

He grabbed the sheets from Raphael’s hands and started to spread them across the mattress with quick, hard movements. If he focused on getting out all the wrinkles, he didn’t have to look at Raphael’s face, and then maybe it would be easier when his boyfriend finally broke up with him.

Despite his best efforts, Simon could still see him in his peripheral vision. 

Raphael stopped helping with the sheets and stood up straight.

“Okay,” he said calmly, “what’s going on?”

Simon flinched with his hands flat on the sheets. This felt like the morning after FF. 

Raphael was all calm and collected while he was barely keeping it together. He couldn’t take it.

“You tell me. Are you two back together now?”

Raphael went stiff as a rod in his peripheral vision.

“What?”

Simon gritted his teeth and busied himself with tossing their pillows down and spreading out the comforter. He should probably go get a second blanket. Hell, he should probably go sleep in Clary’s room. It wasn’t like she’d be using it tonight.

God, Clary. His best friend, whom he had used to be so damn in love with before she had gone off and fallen for a jackass. The fucking irony was killing him.

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ve been there. You love her.”

Raphael scoffed. “Of course, I do.”

Of course, he did. Why wouldn’t he? The girl was pretty, and smart, and funny, and she’d known Raphael probably all his life. She made him happy.

“But not like I love you.”

Simon froze. He made himself turn around and look.

“You do?”

Raphael’s familiar scowl was back in full force. His jaw was tight, and his brows were furrowed, and his shoulders were tense and pulled up like he was ready for a fight. His face was a distinct shade of red.

Simon felt like the world’s biggest idiot.

“I mean, me too,” he blurted. “I mean, I love you, too, but the two of you looked…” Explaining it was so much harder when he had to put it into actual words outside of his brain. “And when you didn’t tell her I was your boyfriend, I thought--”

“Oh, I told her.” Raphael snorted, shaking his head.

“When?”

Raphael clenched his fists at his sides and lowered his lashes on a dark glower.

“About five seconds after she told me she used to have a crush on me.”

Simon felt the blood drain from his face and plummet all the way to the bottom of his stomach.

“Oh.”

“She’s my best friend.” Raphael raised his chin. “I’m always gonna love her, but I was never in love with her.” He crossed his arms. “Not like you and Fray.”

“That’s over,” Simon said quickly. “So over. Has been totally over since…” He chuckled uncomfortably, gritting his teeth. “Man, this is going to sound so cheesy.”

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, but he still remembered the moment he had realized that his feelings for Clary weren’t the same anymore.

“What?” Raphael grumbled.

“The day after FF,” Simon said with raised brows, shoving his hands into his back pockets to keep them from fidgeting. “She came into the conference room, holding hands with Jace, and it just didn’t hurt so much anymore.” He shrugged.

Somewhere between cuddling through his drug-enhanced anxiety attack in the gym showers and erasing pencil-drawn dicks out of school textbooks for charity, Simon had stopped crushing on Clary and had started crushing on Raphael.

Of course, Simon had thought it was just a case of hero worship for the coolest guy in school at the time. He’d had no idea he was falling until he had hit the ground hard after their second kiss.

Raphael furrowed his brows. “I don’t see what’s cheesy about that.”

Simon blinked. He felt burning heat crawl up his face. “That’s because I didn’t actually say any of the cheesy stuff out loud.”

Raphael just stared at him, still with his arms crossed over his chest. He raised his brows.

Simon buckled under the pressure like a soda can. He yanked down the zipper of his hoodie and started to undress for bed so he didn’t have to look at Raphael.

“I stopped crushing on Clary when I started falling for you.” He tossed his hoodie onto the armchair, giving him an excuse to turn his back on Raphael. “Apparently, I prefer the grumpy knight over the sassy princess. Should have guessed as much, really. I always thought Han was so much cooler than Leia. In the old movies, anyway.” 

He unzipped his jeans and shoved them down his legs, doing a reasonable job of not falling on his face when he bent over to take off his sneakers.

Raphael snorted. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah,” Simon said with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Lily thinks you’re cute.”

Simon did fall on his face then. At least he could blame it on his socks.

“She doesn’t,” he groused as he pulled himself back onto his feet.

Girls didn’t think he was cute. Except, maybe Maia and Cat. Simon might have spaced out most of the time Lily had been there, but he would have noticed if she had said anything like that.

“She does,” Raphael insisted. “She texted me on her way home.”

Simon shoved his socks into his sneakers and turned around to glare at Raphael. It didn’t stick.

Raphael had changed soundlessly behind his back like some sort of bedroom-ninja. He was wearing the same flannel pajama bottoms as the night before. His hands were on his hips. He was shirtless.

“No shirt?”

Simon barely managed to form the words without squeaking.

Raphael rolled his eyes. “You’re like a furnace.” He furrowed his brows. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

Simon’s throat was dry, but his mouth was rapidly filling with saliva. He gulped and slowly shook his head no.

He was a terrible liar, but maybe just for once in his life he could get away with it?

Once they had turned off the lights and crawled under the comforter, Simon had no idea what he was supposed to do.

The night before, they had both been completely exhausted. Simon hadn’t even thought about it. He had just curled himself around Raphael and they had fallen asleep like that. 

Tonight was different. Simon’s brain was buzzing with everything that had happened. Now, he was in bed next to a shirtless Raphael with no idea how to handle it.

Raphael looked back over his shoulder with a glower.

“What’s wrong now?”

Simon froze. “Nothing?”

“Then why are you all the way over there?”

Raphael swept one hand back to indicate Simon lying on his back, stiff as a board, with his hands folded tightly on his stomach and about a foot of space between them.

“I…” Simon cringed. “No reason?”

Raphael raised his brows expectantly.

Simon turned onto his side and shifted closer with his heart in his throat.

Raphael rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand, tugging him until they were spooned together in the same position as the night before.

Simon’s brain screeched to a halt. With his arm around Raphael’s chest, he was touching warm, naked skin from his fingertips down to his elbow.

Raphael huffed and settled down like it was nothing.

Simon tried not to get stuck hyper-focusing on the sensation of soft skin and firm muscle under his palm, or the pressure of Raphael’s fingers between his own, or the fact that they were so close that he could feel Raphael’s back move with every breath. Raphael’s butt fit snugly in the cradle of Simon’s hips.

A loud, reverberating groan broke the dead silence of the living room.

Simon hid his burning face inside the curls at the nape of Raphael’s neck.

“I promise that wasn’t me.”

“Idiot, of course it wasn’t you,” Raphael whispered back. “It came from…”

Another groan broke the silence. This one was high-pitched and fluttery. A girl’s moan.

Simon lost his fight to hold back a hysterical chuckle.

“Are they?” He snorted, unable to even form the words around the idea of what his best friend and her boyfriend were getting up to in her mother’s bedroom. “They are, aren’t they?”

There was a wooden bang, followed by a filthy curse and Clary moaning again.

Raphael made a disgusted noise in his throat. “Gross.”

Simon had to agree. He nodded into Raphael’s neck. “God, I hope they’re at least being safe.”

Raphael chuckled unexpectedly. “Of course, you would. You’re her daddy.”

Simon swiftly kicked his knee up into the back of Raphael’s leg.

“Shut up. She was crying because the other kids were being mean to her for not having one. We were four!”

Raphael snorted into his pillow.

The noises from the bedroom continued. Simon tried his best to ignore them.

Raphael was clearly getting more annoyed with every passing minute. He kept shifting back and forth, punching his pillow, and making grumpy noises every time the silence was interrupted by another moan from Jocelyn’s bedroom.

Then he started grumbling a stream of Spanish profanity in a low, steady growl under his breath.

Simon whimpered, cursing his body for betraying him.

Raphael froze. “Seriously?”

Simon tried to shift his hips back far enough that his sudden boner would no longer poke Raphael in the butt.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“They’re so gross,” Raphael snarled through his teeth.

“Ew!” Simon jerked his head up. “It’s not because of them. It’s you.”

Between the naked skin, and the shimmying, and the filthy bedroom voice, Simon had never stood a chance.

“Oh.” Raphael stopped moving. He cleared his throat. “You could go take care of it?”

They were spooned a little more awkwardly now because Simon was trying to keep his boner away from Raphael, but Raphael was still holding on to his arm.

“I probably should,” he said quietly.

Simon thought about pulling his arm back and crawling out of the warm comforter. The bathroom would be ice cold and bright as hell. He’d be freezing the whole time just to rub one out. It wasn’t worth it. 

“But I don’t want to,” he admitted honestly.

It would go away on its own eventually. He was mostly comfortable, and warm, and, aside from being a little embarrassed, there was really no reason to move. At least, not for him.

“Unless it’s bothering you?”

Raphael sucked in a deep breath that pushed his back against Simon’s chest. Then he let it out again just as slowly.

“It doesn’t bother me.” 

He shifted one leg back behind Simon’s knee and pushed it forward. The move crushed their lower bodies firmly back together.

Simon held his breath. He buried his nose in the curls at the nape of Raphael’s neck and nodded, exhaling slowly.

“Okay.”

Simon woke up still spooned up behind Raphael when the doorbell rang the next morning.

He made a grumbling noise. He didn’t want to get up, let alone have to deal with the dry, crusted mess sticking to his skin inside his boxers.

The doorbell rang again. Several times.

“Clary? Open up, kiddo. It’s me.”

Simon’s eyes shot open.

“Shit! Luke!” 

He vaulted upright, nearly falling on top of Raphael because the comforter got tangled around both of them.

Raphael jolted awake with a burst of profanity and a glower that could curdle milk.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Get dressed,” Simon hissed through his teeth. “Fast!”

Something heavy, most likely Luke’s fist, banged against the door several times.

“Kiddo?”

Simon didn’t have time to check back on Raphael, he was too busy bolting down the hallway into Jocelyn’s bedroom.

He burst in with his eyes squeezed shut and slammed the door behind him.

“You have like three seconds to get dressed! Luke’s here! He’s gonna break down the door if we don’t let him in!”

“Shit!” Clary screeched. “Jace, hurry up.”

Simon listened to the sounds of scrambling and clothes hastily being put on.

“You guys dressed yet?” he asked with his eyes still squeezed shut.

“Dude,” Jace snarled. “Stop being a dumbass and go buy us some time!”

“Right!”

Simon swung himself back out of Jocelyn’s bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

By the time he walked out into the living room, Luke was already inside.

Luke Garroway was a tall man. He towered over Raphael by several inches. His curly black hair was cropped in a tight, no-nonsense cut, and his full beard was meticulously groomed. His dark brown eyes narrowed suspiciously under his bushy brows as he looked from Raphael to Simon and back again.

Everything about him screamed ‘I’m a dad and a cop, so you better fess up now’.

Simon managed to squeeze out a smile, but it felt pretty wobbly.

“Hi, Luke.”

“Simon,” Luke said in his gruffest cop-dad voice. “You wanna explain what I just walked in on?”

Simon gulped.

They were standing around the sofa bed. The sheets were rumpled. Raphael was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and Simon’s hoodie. Simon was still dressed in last night’s band T-shirt and boxer shorts. He could only hope the mess he’d made in his sleep wasn’t visible on the outside.

He opened his mouth, snapped it shut again, and closed his eyes.

Maybe if Luke was busy yelling at him, he wouldn’t be too hard on Clary when she finally poked her head out of Jocelyn’s bedroom. Hopefully, not with Jace in tow.

Simon opened his eyes and raised his chin.

“Raphael is my boyfriend. My mom kicked us out because she caught us cuddling. Clary took us in.”

Luke raised both eyebrows and crossed his muscular arms in front of his massive chest.

“Cuddling?”

Simon crossed his own not-so-muscular arms in front of his much less massive chest.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Cuddling. It’s what we do.”

Raphael muttered something under his breath in Spanish that Simon was pretty sure was a grumpy comment about Simon’s dorkish nature.

“Luke!” Clary’s fake-chipper voice squeaked from the hallway. “Hi!”

She somehow managed to avoid eye-contact with anything other than Luke as she walked up to him.

Simon was relieved to see that Jace was staying out of sight.

Clary threw her arms around Luke’s neck and greeted him with a kiss to the cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

There was no fake cheer in her tone this time. She sounded like she was about to cry.

Luke uncrossed his arms and pulled her into a hug, lifting her off the ground.

“I’m so sorry, kiddo. They kept me locked up with Internal Affairs all day yesterday or I would have come sooner.”

Clary pulled back to look at him. Her face was paler than normal and her eyes looked glassy.

“Because of mom?”

Luke’s gruff expression crumbled. “Don’t worry, kiddo. It’ll be okay. I’m here now. We’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

Clary nodded, holding on to Luke’s arms even as he set her back on her feet. She chewed on her bottom lip.

“Can you call social services and tell them that?”

“Of course,” Luke said. “I’m in the clear with IA, so I’ll be taking care of you until your mom comes back home. Promise.”

“Thank you.”

Clary threw herself back against Luke’s chest, and he put his arms around her shoulders.

Simon breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t last long.

Luke kept his arm around Clary and turned to face Simon and Raphael.

“On a different note,” he said, pinning Raphael with a glare. “Is that your motorcycle parked half in the red along the curb?”

Raphael raised his chin, shoulders squared, and returned the glower with one of his patented mob-boss stares.

“No.”

Simon ducked his head, trying not to smile, but it was nearly impossible.

“Luke,” Clary said hesitantly, “I, um.”

“It’s mine.”

Jace stepped out of the hallway with his hands shoved into the front pockets of his faded torn-up jeans and a defiant look on his face.

Luke turned his glower on Jace. He tilted his head and gave Jace a long look up and down.

“I see,” he said blandly.

Jace ducked his head and moved quickly toward the front door.

“I’ll go re-park it.”

Simon used the opportunity to take a quick shower and change into clean clothes. When he walked back into the kitchen, everyone else was sitting around the table, having coffee and exchanging awkward looks.

“Who made the coffee?” he asked cautiously.

“I did,” said Luke.

“Oh, good.”

Simon breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a cup before he sat down next to Raphael at the far end of the table from Luke and Clary.

Jace jumped out of his seat next to Clary like something had bitten him.

“I’m gonna grab a shower.”

Clary sighed after the quickly retreating form of her boyfriend.

“Please don’t be so hard on him, Luke.”

“Oh, no,” Simon said with a snicker. “Please do.”

Raphael rolled his eyes but Simon saw him smirk behind his mug.

Luke turned his heavy glare on Simon.

“You have no reason to laugh, young man.”

Simon ducked his head. He hadn’t earned himself a ‘young man’ since that time Luke had caught him sneaking a cigarette when he was twelve.

“Sorry, Luke.”

Luke made a gruff noise in his throat and turned back to Clary.

“In any case, I think it’s best if Jace goes back home today. Wherever that is.”

“Rhode Island,” Clary said in a small voice. “He lives there with his grandmother.”

“And what about you?” Luke asked, looking down the length of the table at Raphael.

Simon instinctively grabbed his boyfriend’s hand. 

“He stays with me.”

No way was he going to let anyone send Raphael back to his evil aunt in Connecticut. She wasn’t even there, but that wasn’t the point.

Raphael slowly turned his head to look at him. “I can speak for myself.”

Simon shrunk back and started to pull away.

Raphael turned his hand around and laced their fingers. He set his coffee mug down on the table in front of him.

“My legal guardian is currently enjoying a Caribbean cruise and can’t be reached. I had arranged to spend the winter break with the Lewis family. Unfortunately, Mrs. Lewis doesn’t approve of our relationship.”

Simon gaped.

How could Raphael still pull off a full-on Michael Corleone when he was sitting at the kitchen table in flannel pajamas and Simon’s old marching band hoodie?

Luke chuckled and picked up his own mug for a long sip, clearly nowhere near as impressed by Raphael’s persona.

“Looks like I will have to call Elaine. I can’t just let you two stay here without her approval until you all go back to school.”

That was when it hit Simon. His heart banged against his chest like he’d stepped on the breaks too hard for a sudden red light. He felt cold.

“Um,” he said slowly. “What’s going to happen with that?”

The only reason he had been able to go with Clary was because Jocelyn had paid for everything.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“I mean, who’s going to…” He screwed up his courage and got to the point. “Are Clary and I going to have to leave Alicante?”

Raphael’s fingers twitched and clasped tighter around his.

Luke made a cynical noise in his throat.

“Jocelyn knew what she was doing,” he said. “There’s an untouchable trust fund set up specifically to pay for both of your tuition until you graduate from Alicante Academy.”

Simon nearly collapsed with relief as he felt Raphael’s grip relax around his fingers.

Raphael picked up his mug and brought it to his lips, muttering, “One less battle to fight.”

“Yeah,” Simon agreed, “but we’ll still have to deal with my mom.”

The ring of the doorbell had all of them looking at each other.

“If that’s her,” Simon said, already getting up from the table to answer the door, “I’m gonna laugh so hard.” 

It was Becky. She’d brought more bagels.

“Luke!” She grinned and dumped her load on the kitchen table. “So good to see you. Where were you yesterday?”

Luke huffed. “Internal Affairs.”

“Right.” Becky wrinkled her nose. Then she shook it off with a bright smile. “Anyway, see, Clary, I told you everything would be okay.”

Clary made a face. “You didn’t, really.”

Simon rolled his eyes and stopped the two before they could start.

“What about Mom?” he asked pointedly.

“Mom is currently getting chewed out on the phone. I called Bubbe Helen.”

The plates and silverware Simon had pulled out clattered onto the table. He gasped.

“You didn’t. Bubbe Helen’s going to kill her.”

Becky shrugged flippantly. “She deserves it.”

“Don’t say that,” Raphael said sharply. “She’s your mother.”

Simon cringed.

Becky sighed. “Look,” she said, turning around with a coffee mug in her hand. “There’s some stuff that Simon probably hasn’t told you—”

“Becky,” Simon said with an unmistakable warning in his tone.

It was bad enough that Clary and Luke knew. They didn’t need to bring this up in front of Raphael.

“But it’s my stuff, too,” Becky continued unfazed, “so I’m gonna tell it.”

Simon deflated and dropped into his chair with a scowl.

“Anyway, our mom’s an alcoholic.”

“Rebecca,” Luke scolded her gently, but with a firm look.

“Recovering,” she stressed, “now, but still an alcoholic.”

Simon hunched his shoulders, glancing over to see Raphael’s reaction.

He looked stunned.

Simon picked up a bagel, slathered it in plain cream cheese, and put it on Raphael’s plate. He crossed his arms and lifted one elbow toward the plate.

“Eat.”

He knew Raphael wouldn’t want to eat once Becky had finished her story.

Raphael rolled his eyes, but he picked up the bagel and took a bite.

“God, you two are so cute together.”

Becky snickered, contemplating the mug in her hand before she continued.

“After Dad died, Mom went on a bender. Pretty much left me to act as the parent in charge of Simon and everything. It was awful.”

She took a sip from her coffee and made a face.

“I’m not a mom. I suck at mom-ing. Plus, I was like fourteen at the time, so what the hell did I know, right?”

“You did great,” Simon said quietly.

Without his sister, he would have been lost.

Becky dropped her intense expression for a moment and shone a genuine, soft smile in his direction.

“Thanks, Si,” she said.

“It’s true,” Simon admitted with a sigh. “Becky used to do everything. Like do the laundry, make my lunches, she even signed off on permission slips for school when mom didn’t feel good.”

“You mean when she was too drunk or too hungover to be bothered,” Becky corrected bluntly.

Clary’s knife clattered onto her plate. Her mouth hung open. “I didn’t… How did I not know?”

Luke didn’t say anything, but his gaze rested heavy with sympathy on Simon.

Simon’s knee started to jitter. He felt a foot slide up and hook around his ankle. As the bouncing slowed to a stop, he looked at Raphael full of gratitude and remorse at the same time.

Becky turned to Clary.

“The reason you’ve never heard this,” she said pointedly, “is that our mother told us they’d take me and Simon away from home and split us up if we ever told anyone.”

There was a lot of anger and resentment in his sister’s tone and in the cold expression on her face. Simon couldn’t blame her. He just wished it didn’t make him feel like shit.

“So,” Becky said, “since she decided to just stop being a mom for a solid three years back then, she doesn’t get to say shit about any damn thing at all.” She sniffed and leaned across the table to pick up a bagel. “And I’m glad Bubbe Helen is finally telling her off.”

Raphael lowered his head and raised his mug.

Simon placed his hand on top of Raphael’s clenched fist, and brushed his thumb over the rigid knuckles.

“In fact,” Becky continued as she sat down at the table and spread an inordinate amount of cream cheese on her bagel. “I think she owes both of you a formal apology, or I’ll make sure she’s not invited to your wedding.”

Simon choked on his own spit as Raphael spluttered into his coffee.

Becky’s unholy cackle would have raised the hair on the neck of the wicked witch.

“I thought it’s only been a couple months,” Clary said, trying to force a smile. “Damn, you boys move fast.”

“I’m not…” Simon sputtered. “We’re not…” His panicky eyes locked onto Raphael’s, pleading for forgiveness. “She’s just…”

“I’m just teasing,” Becky drawled with a wink before she turned to Clary. “They’re so cute when they’re flustered.”


	25. All Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_YELLOW BANANA CONE SAFETY WARNING! DO NOT IGNORE!:_**  
This chapter contains: A flashback to Alec's previous suicide attempt (pills and alcohol) and talk about drugs and sexual behavior under the influence of drugs. 
> 
> This chapter also contains: Descriptions of Alec kissing guys who aren't Magnus. 
> 
> On a happier note, I am still thrilled with every kudo and comment this story receives. Please let me know what you think, it makes my day. Speculation about characters or future events are also always welcome. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy the story.
> 
> ###### 

The day before Christmas Eve, Alec sat on a cracked cement wall, staring out at the Mediterranean Sea, wondering how he was ever going to fix the mess that his life had become.

The water was a murky blue, and the beach that separated it from the main road behind him was a dull gray strip of tide-washed gravel.

Not far beyond the main drag with its ugly concrete slab buildings, the foothills rose littered with old-fashioned Mediterranean single-family homes like the one his mother’s family had owned for three or four generations.

His mother had decided to escape the gossip mill by spending the winter vacation on the southern coast of Spain. Alec had barely put his suitcase down in D.C. before she’d made him re-pack his bags for the trip to Idris.

While Maryse had spent the better part of the eight-hour flight across the Atlantic out cold with the help of her sleeping pills, Alec had watched three long movies back-to-back, refusing to think about his final conversation with Magnus.

Then he had choked down some truly awful coffee at the airport in Brussels, listening to his mother nag and complain about everything and nothing until they had boarded the almost three-hour flight to Malaga. Alec had re-watched one of the three movies from his previous flight, still not thinking about Magnus.

The forty-five-minute limousine ride from the airport to their family villa had passed with his mother’s relentless recital of a busy itinerary that only tangentially involved him. Alec had listened attentively anyway, so he wouldn’t have to think about Magnus.

As soon as he had dropped his suitcase in the bedroom facing the steep craggy slope of the hill, Alec had turned around on his heel and told his mother he was going down to the beach.

Sitting there, with daytime traffic droning right behind his back, Alec finally gave up on trying not to think.

Once again, within the span of a couple of weeks, his whole life had blown up and gone to hell in spectacular fashion.

He could hear Dr. Scott’s mild British drawl in his head, pointing out that he was putting undue emphasis on negative events while completely discarding any positive developments.

Alec smiled grimly.

He wished he could call his therapist right now to help him put things in perspective.

Three weeks ago, when Alec had returned from his unplanned naptime with Magnus, he had agonized for three days straight until he had sat down for his next therapy session on the Thursday following Thanksgiving. 

Once there, he had laid out everything that had happened with Izzy, and his parents, and Lydia, and, finally, Magnus.

Dr. Scott had advised him to take a step back and look at each individual issue without clumping them into one big ball of disaster. He had patiently walked Alec through his thoughts.

By the time Alec had left his therapist’s office, he had been on steadier feet.

He had accepted that Izzy’s move to Los Angeles was her decision to make and that her willingness to go into rehab and start over was a positive step.

He was beginning to understand that he had no influence or responsibility where the behavior of his parents was concerned.

He had managed to recognize that, circumstances aside, Lydia’s willingness to accompany him to the Bane gala was a positive development in their new relationship as friends.

Finally, he had agreed to take the week until his next therapy session to think about how he wanted to proceed regarding his arrangement with Magnus.

The most baffling thing had been the moment when Dr. Scott had calmly pointed out that Alec had choices besides breaking it off or pretending ignorance of Magnus’s feelings.

He had challenged Alec’s all-or-nothing approach and pushed him to seriously consider whether he might want to pursue a relationship with Magnus outside of their sexual activities.

_Remember, Alec, one of the points on your list was that you wanted to make your own decisions. This is part of that. _

Alec had thought about it. He had spent almost the entire weekend of the Division tournament in New Jersey thinking about it. More than once, he had almost approached Simon Lewis between rounds to talk to him about Magnus, only to catch himself at the last moment.

It had gotten so bad, Lydia had physically tackled him into a corner and had told him, “Whatever it is, suck it up and get your head in the game.”

They’d barely won the tournament. Then she’d cornered him again after dinner with a pint of ice-cream and the demand, “Game’s over, so whatever it is, go ahead and spit it out.”

He had told her he was thinking about maybe asking Magnus Bane out on a date.

She had stared at him as if he had grown a second head and told him she’d thought he and Magnus had been dating on and off since FF.

Confessing his casual gay sex turned complicated story to his straight ex-girlfriend over a shared pint of Rocky Road was definitely one of Alec’s weirdest life experiences.

Alec shook his head at the memory and stood up from his perch. His butt was getting numb from the cold cement, so he started to walk along the stony beach toward the end where the shoreline curved around one of Idris’s foothills.

He wished he could at least call Lydia, but there was still an eight-hour time difference between them. If she wasn’t still asleep, she was probably just heading out onto the ski slopes in Breckenridge.

Lydia was the only reason he had been able to keep it together at that damn holiday party.

Literally two days after Alec had made up his mind and told Dr. Scott that he was going to have an honest conversation with Magnus about his feelings if nothing else, Magnus had gone and fucked Kaelie Whitewillow.

Alec kicked the stones at his feet just thinking about it.

Of course, Alec had expected Magnus to show up with a girl. Magnus’s father was every bit as demanding as Alec’s mother, maybe worse.

What Alec had not expected was to be forced to watch from the sidelines while the sparkly couple flirted, and danced, and pawed at each other all night.

Magnus had completely ignored his existence, but the girl had kept looking in his direction with a superior smirk on her face.

When Magnus had started circling the room with Kaelie hanging on his arm like some future trophy-wife in training, Alec had nearly broken Lydia’s foot on the dancefloor.

When Magnus had kissed Kaelie, right in front of his face, and dragged her away with a flirtatious comment, Alec had actually dropped his champagne glass.

Luckily, Lydia had covered for him and pulled him back to the dancefloor before anyone could make a comment.

Magnus had returned to the party alone, almost two hours later, looking thoroughly disheveled and exhausted.

_It took a while to wrangle her._

He hadn’t even had the decency to lie about what he’d been up to when Alec confronted him. Pretending ignorance was the best Magnus had been able to muster.

Alec had been so furious he hadn’t been able to see straight.

He was not proud of it, but he was his mother’s son.

He’d delivered his rebuke, as casual and devastating as any of Maryse’s nuclear one-liners, and walked away like it meant nothing.

If Lydia hadn’t stuck to him like glue for the rest of that night, Alec didn’t know what he would have done.

He still had no idea how he had made it through his midterms without failing every single exam.

Alec had agonized over the nature of Magnus’s feelings and what to do about them for two full weeks. Longer than that if he included the time since his uncomfortable conversation with Simon Lewis. Only for Magnus to turn around and make a fool out of Alec by having sex with someone else.

Clearly, Alec had vastly over-estimated the depth of Magnus Bane’s feelings.

Except.

_We’re done._

Freezing water lapping at his shoes pulled Alec out of his thoughts with a yelp. The tide had sneaked up on him.

He moved off the beach, jumped across the cement divider, and crossed the main road.

The sun was dipping below the horizon. The bars were opening up their doors and starting to turn up the music. Idris was waking up for the night.

Alec gritted his teeth and kept walking. He found the one place with its door still closed; an Irish pub with a Guinness sign in the window and a stereotypical Irish last name in big gold-leaf letters across the front.

He sat down on the single stool at the short end of the curved bar counter made from dark, age-worn wood and stared at the tall cabinet of bottles behind it.

For an instant, he was tempted, but the memory of his previous experiences with hard liquor came back to him like a fist to the stomach. Better to stick with something less potent.

He looked up at the bartender behind the counter. The man had a deep tan, dark hair, olive-green eyes, and a thick layer of stubble around the grin on his lips.

Alec pulled together the remnants of Spanish in the back of his brain.

“Una cerveza, por favor.”

The bartender cringed.

“We speak English, too. Can I see your ID?”

“Sure.”

Alec showed his American driver license and the bartender nodded in acceptance.

“What can I get you?”

Alec shrugged. He had no idea what beer was good.

“Whatever’s on tap?”

The bartender looked pointedly over his shoulder at a long line of beer taps.

“Get the poor lad a pint o’ red and stop messin’ with ‘im, ye maggot!”

The accent was Irish. The man it belonged to was gorgeous. His pale, angular face was framed by a thick mop of jet-black hair with streaks in different shades of blue. His full lips stretched with a lopsided grin. His wide-set eyes were two completely different colors. One was so dark brown it looked black and the other was such a light gray it looked silver.

Alec was still staring at the man’s eyes when a tall glass of red ale was placed in front of him.

“Welcome to Spain,” the bartender quipped. “Enjoy responsibly.” He tilted his head in the direction of the gorgeous man with heterochromatic eyes. “Especially that one.”

“Name’s Kieran.”

“Alec.”

They stumbled into Kieran’s hotel room and barely got the door closed behind them before Kieran pushed Alec onto the bed and climbed onto his lap.

Alec still wasn’t sure how they’d gotten from talking about soccer to shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. He didn’t really care. He didn’t want answers. He wanted oblivion.

The guy was all over the place, petting at Alec and shimmying around in a way that did nothing for Alec’s semi-hard dick trapped inside his slacks. It was like he didn’t fit right in Alec’s lap. Not like…

Alec did his best to distract himself from the wayward thought.

“Pull my hair.”

He barely managed to grind out the words between sloppy kisses that tasted like onion rings and Irish red ale.

Kieran mumbled a wordless question, brushed it off with another noise on the next breath, and leaned back to yank his own T-shirt up over his head.

Alec froze in a jarring moment of surprise at the sight of a broad white chest with pale pink nipples and a smattering of dark hair in the center.

He shook it off, nosed at the pale skin, and inhaled a sharp unfamiliar scent as far away from warm silk sheets and sage as you could get. Stubbornly flicked the tip of his tongue over one of the pink nipples anyway.

Cold fingers curled around the back of his neck and kneaded at his shoulders in all the wrong places.

Alec writhed and nipped firmly at the stiff bit of flesh between his lips.

“Scratch me.” 

The fingers twitched once. Then they went back to kneading, his request summarily ignored, while Kieran busied himself leaving a trail of soft, wet kisses down the wrong side of his neck.

Alec groaned in frustration. “At least use your teeth.”

The next moment, Kieran grabbed his jaw with both hands, thumbs brushing just below his ears. Alec felt the pressure of fingers every bit as slender as Magnus’s but with none of their tenderness.

“Okay, look. You seem like a decent bloke, and you’re stupid hot, and I’d luv to shag you ‘til both of us walk outta here bow-legged, but you’ll have to stop this bossy shit, or it’s just not gunna work.”

“What?” Alec blinked and pulled his face out of the uncomfortable hold. “What do you mean?”

Kieran braced his hands on Alec’s shoulders and rolled his head around with a chuckle.

“Are you honestly saying you don’t have a clue what you just sounded like?”

Alec’s brows furrowed as his fingers flexed on Kieran’s hips. They were too wide, too stiff. His weight felt uncomfortable on Alec’s lap.

“Bossy, apparently.”

Kieran laughed. “Alec, you sound like you’re grudgingly ordering some grub at a manky dive because there’s nowhere else to grab a bite. I’d like to think I deserve better than that, even from a one-off.”

“Oh.”

Alec suddenly felt lightheaded and a little queasy. The words ‘deserve better’ anchored themselves in his brain.

Kieran’s voice barely broke through.

“Has no one ever told you that?”

Alec shook his head very slowly as his mind crashed with brilliant clarity through the times when he had used the exact same words in probably the same tone with Magnus.

He had never stopped to think for a moment about whether Magnus had actually enjoyed doing all the things they had done together.

It had been so easy. Maybe too easy?

_As long as you got what you wanted, you didn’t give a fuck about anything else. You don’t give a fuck about me_.

“I’m sorry.”

The words tasted rancid in Alec’s mouth. Too little, too late, to the wrong guy.

_Because I’m in love with you, you inconsiderate asshole!_

“Poor eejit,” Kieran said, combing his fingers through Alec’s hair. “You really had no idea.”

Alec was struck with the urge to throw him off and run as fast and as far as he could.

Instead, he gently pulled down Kieran’s hand and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. He tried to work through his emotions the way he had learned in therapy.

“I don’t think we should do this,” he said slowly. “It doesn’t feel right. There’s… I’m…” Alec sighed. “It’s complicated.” 

“Aw, feckin’ell.” Kieran shifted further back and ducked his head, mismatched eyes moving quickly to search Alec’s face. “There’s another bloke, isn’t there?”

Kieran barked out a laugh and jumped off Alec’s knees onto his feet. He turned away and fished his T-shirt from the carpet.

“I’m sorry.” Alec said again, sincerely.

Kieran kept snickering as he pulled his shirt back on. “Oh, don’t worry. That’s just my luck. Not the first time it’s happened.”

He turned around and jutted his hips out, elegant hands braced casually on his waist. His eyes looked silver and black in the dim light of the room as he gave Alec a long once over. He licked his lips.

“Any chance you’ll want to have another go at it if I give you ten minutes and get us a bottle of Jack from the bar?”

“No.”

Alec huffed out a humorless laugh. His mind had moved past the initial shock of realization to the irrational urge to atone for his wrong-doing right this very second.

There was a very real, frightening chance that by the time Kieran found a bar to buy a bottle of whiskey, Alec would be in a rideshare on his way to the airport.

He was being irrational. He couldn’t just up and get on a plane back to the US. His passport was still back in his room at the villa. In addition to that, he had no idea where Magnus was right now or if he even wanted to talk to Alec.

_I can’t do this anymore._

Kieran’s voice pulled him out of his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Processing,” Alec said slowly.

Kieran rolled his eyes. “Anything I can do to help?”

Alec’s brows furrowed. He was pretty certain his relationship with Magnus Bane was ruined beyond help at this point.

_We don’t have a relationship._

Alec swallowed. “I just need a minute.”

Kieran laughed again and threw himself on the bed behind Alec. He grabbed the remote, turned the TV to a channel with a soccer game, and pushed his arms behind his head on top of the pillows.

“Suit yourself, mate.”

Alec decided to spend his remaining days in Idris in and around the family villa up in the foothills. He didn’t venture further than the side of the pool where he still had Wi-Fi reception from inside the house.

His mother was rarely home, and when he saw her, she was herself.

Pestering him about college.

“Did you hear back from Harvard yet?”

“What do you mean you didn’t apply for Yale?”

Or harassing him to chase his own tail like today.

This morning, she had sniped at him over the breakfast table, “Don’t spend all day inside the house.”

Now that he had been stretched out on a chair by the pool for less than five minutes, she barreled right toward him in full Versace Summer attire.

“Get out of the sun! You know you burn like a lobster.”

Alec sighed.

As soon as he turned on the Wi-Fi, his phone chimed with an incoming email. He couldn’t help the smile on his face when he saw who it was from. Before he could stop himself, the words fell out of his mouth.

“Izzy sent me an email.”

Maryse’s face froze. She placed one hand on top of her ridiculously oversized straw hat and narrowed her eyes.

“I’m going to the market. Don’t stay out here too long.”

She turned around and walked away from him without another word.

Alec should have known better. His mother had handled Izzy’s move to Los Angeles the same way she had handled Max’s death. She pretended that neither of them had ever existed.

Izzy’s room had probably been turned into a generic guestroom the same day that Alec had returned to Alicante after Thanksgiving.

He gritted his teeth and opened his sister’s email.

_Hello big brother,_

_I told you I’d write as soon as they let me. Dad got me a spot at a really good place here. He promised he’ll come to visit as often as he can. He’s already come out twice. Annamarie came once. She’s okay. Not as dumb as we thought, but she smiles a lot. Like all the time. I miss my big brother’s serious scowls. I told Dad he needs to shave. He says, he’d rather you move to L.A._

_All kidding aside, there’s something I have to do. It’s part of my recovery. They asked me to make a list of all the people I fucked over (they didn’t call it that) and to apologize and make amends where I can. You’re the first on my list._

_I am so, so sorry for everything I did to you. Not just the drugs, but all the stuff even before that._

_After Max died, I was a total mess. Mom didn’t give a shit, and Dad was never around, but you were there. You were always there, and the more I acted up, the more you were there for me._

_I wanted to be there for you too. That’s no excuse. The worst thing I ever did to you, I did because I was high, and I was dumb, and I didn’t see the harm until it was way too late._

_At my 15th birthday party, I took your cup and I put a drop of liquid-E in it, and I let you drink it without saying anything._

_At the time, I thought it was going to loosen you up, maybe finally give you the guts to ask a guy to dance or something. I had no idea you were going to go find Jace._

_I am so sorry, Alec. For everything. It’s all my fault. The party. The drugs. Whatever happened between you and Jace. You trying to kill yourself. It’s all my fault, and I am so, so sorry._

The email ended there. Izzy hadn’t even signed her name.

She had probably forced herself to hit the send button before she could chicken out.

Alec closed his eyes and felt the tears roll down his cheeks.

His baby sister had drugged him. The person he loved the most in this godforsaken world had dropped liquid-E in his drink, and he had gone and used the false courage to confess his feelings to his best friend and had kissed him. And when that hadn’t worked, he had...

No wonder he had passed out.

No wonder he’d woken up with no recollection of what exactly he had done after Jace had tried to push him away.

Alec stabbed the button on his phone that made the screen go black.

He burst out of the lounge chair and bolted into the house, slamming the door behind him. Snagged his toe on the two steps up from the living area to the back of the house, nearly crashed face first into the stone tiles.

Stumbled into the bathroom and washed his face, opened the cabinet. Saw the bright orange prescription pill bottle on the second shelf.

Braced his hands on the sink.

Remembered.

The party had been huge and wild. Blaring music. Tons of people he didn’t know. College kids. His sister in the thick of it. Their mother on a business trip somewhere out of state.

Red plastic cups and crushed snack food everywhere. Billowing smoke in the air, bodies writhing together and alone.

He’d lost sight of Izzy, craned his neck, trying to find her in the chaos. She’d jumped him from behind. He’d spilled his drink. She’d brought him a new one.

Later, a feeling like floating above the ground or walking on marshmallow foam.

Jace. Sprawled back on one of the couches. Brimming with confidence and perfectly at ease even in the middle of pandemonium.

Glowing like an angel with pale blond hair, bright eyes, and a dauntless smile that made Alec want to kiss him.

So, he had climbed into Jace’s lap and kissed him. Had wrapped his arms around Jace’s shoulders, and pressed himself close, and pushed his tongue into Jace’s open mouth without waiting for an invitation. 

Jace had pushed him away with an expression of shock and fear.

Alec’s hands had still been clamped around Jace’s shoulders.

The next time he had blinked, Alec had been lying face down on the carpet in his own bedroom. Shirtless, bruised, his fly had gaped open with his pants shoved half-way down his hips.

Alec let go off the sink and stumbled back. He sat down heavily on the tacky blue ceramic tiles with his back against the bathtub and cried.

He still didn’t know for certain what had happened in the time between him sitting on Jace’s lap and him waking up on the floor, but it didn’t take a genius to assemble the pieces he did have into a gruesome picture.

Especially when Jace had avoided him like the plague after the party.

Alec remembered sitting through that never-ending family dinner with his mother and Izzy a few days later. Pretending everything was fine when he was a cold hard mess, guilty of so much worse than letting his sister have a secret party with alcohol and cigarettes.

He had wanted to throw himself at Jace’s mercy and beg him for forgiveness.

Jace rejecting his phone call had been the final straw.

Alec had decided to take his punishment into his own hands. He’d swallowed his mother’s sleeping pills with a healthy dose of a bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet.

Izzy had found him.

His baby sister who had dosed him with illegal drugs had also saved him from killing himself with prescription drugs.

Alec sat shivering and crying on the bathroom floor and started laughing hysterically.

He couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Scott and see what he made of this new development.

Alec’s phone woke him up in the middle of the night. When he saw Jace’s name on the screen, his heart stopped, convinced that Izzy had overdosed again. It took him three repetitions of the abrupt, low-pitched ringtone to remember Izzy was in rehab in Los Angeles.

He picked up the call and cleared his throat.

Jace’s voice cut him off before he could say anything.

“Are you okay?”

Alec sat up in bed. His heart was still coming back down to a regular beat. He pulled the phone down for a second to look at the time. It was just past 1:00 am.

“Yeah, I’m…” He didn’t want to say he was fine. He really wasn’t. Not after the email he’d gotten this afternoon. “Why?”

Alec got a sinking feeling of suspicion in the long pause before Jace answered.

“I just got an email from Izzy.” Jace’s voice shook a little. “Did you get one?”

Alec closed his eyes. He so hadn’t wanted to do this over the phone. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He swallowed and clawed the fingers of his free hand into the sheets.

“Yeah, I got one.”

“Shit, Alec!” Jace sounded frantic. “Just, please, don’t do anything…” He cut himself off with a harsh breath. There was the sound of something metallic scraping over a hard surface. “I’m coming down there. I’m getting on my bike, right now. It’s gonna take a few hours, but I’ll—"

“Jace! I’m in Idris!”

“What? Fuck! What the fuck are you doing in Idris?”

They hadn’t spoken to each other since Izzy’s overdose after FF. Not even when Alec had come back from Thanksgiving break alone. He wondered if Izzy had talked to Jace since her move to L.A. or if her email was the first Jace had heard from either of them.

Alec chuckled. “Mother thought it would be a good way to escape the gossip mill with Izzy in rehab.”

“Shit. Fuck.” Jace took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m so sorry, Alec.”

Alec’s brows furrowed over his nose. He chuckled again. He had no idea why Jace was acting like this. It was messing with his head. Jace should be furious with him. He didn’t sound furious.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Everything.” Jace’s tone was blunt. “That night at Izzy’s party. I knew you were drunk. I had no idea… Fuck.”

Obviously, Izzy had mentioned her 15th birthday party in her apology email to Jace. She shouldn’t have. Regardless of what his baby sister had done to his drink, Alec was still the one responsible for his actions.

“Don’t.” Alec squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t apologize. It was my fault. What I did to you.”

Jace huffed out a laugh. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I reacted like an ass. I shouldn’t have—”

“I assaulted you! I, God, I…”

Alec had to swallow down a burst of bile that rose up in his throat. He stared at the door across from him, willing himself to see nothing but the door. He took a few deep breaths and made himself say what he should have had the guts to say all those months ago.

“Everything I did to you that night. I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean shit, and I can’t ever make up for it, but I’m so, so sorry.”

“Alec, it was just a kiss.”

“Don’t lie. I’m not going to…” He wouldn’t try to kill himself again. It had been a stupid, kneejerk thing to do. He should never have done it. “But I need to know the truth.”

“Alec what are you talking about?” Jace sounded confused.

Alec took a shaky breath, confused that Jace was confused. Wasn’t it obvious what he was talking about?

“The last thing I remember,” he said slowly, forcing the words out past the bile in his throat, “is that I was sitting on top of you, kissing you, and you were trying to push me away. Then I woke up on the floor the next morning half naked with my pants hanging open.”

Alec pressed his mouth shut to keep himself from vomiting. He took a shaky breath through his nose, trying to force himself to ask the question. Before he could utter more than a croak, Jace’s voice burst through the phone.

“Shit, Alec. No!”

He sounded beyond frantic, talking loud enough that Alec had to rip the phone away from his ear for a moment.

“You stopped. You stopped. You kissed me, and then I pushed you away, and you stopped.”

Even if Alec hadn’t heard the first one, he definitely heard Jace’s insistent repetition of the word “stopped”.

He started to shake, tears running down his face, as he listened to Jace’s voice ramble on the other end of the line.

“You climbed off my lap and mumbled something and then you ran off. Holy shit, this whole time, did you think that… You thought you…” Jace couldn’t even say the words. “Alec, fuck no!”

The tears clogged Alec’s throat, so he didn’t try to say anything, even though he wanted to.

Jace kept talking.

“You’re my best friend,” he said firmly. “You’re my brother. I love you. You’d never hurt me like that. You’d never hurt anyone like that. Alec, holy shit, I’m sorry. I should have gone after you. I had no idea. Fuck, is that why … That’s why… Shit, I knew it was because of me, but I thought… Fuck.”

Jace sounded like he was flying apart at the seams, blaming himself for Alec’s suicide attempt.

That was the last thing Alec wanted. He made himself swallow a couple times and pried his mouth open.

“That’s not on you.” He bit the words out. “What I did. Alpine View. That’s not on you. You hear me?”

Jace made an upset growling noise. It was the noise that signaled something in his close vicinity was about to have a fist drilled through it. 

“Shit, why the fuck are you in Idris right now?”

Alec chuckled shakily. “Because my sister’s in rehab in L.A. and my mother is coping the only way she knows how.”

Jace snarled, and there was a loud, dull bang on the other end of the line.

Alec scrubbed a hand over his face and wiped his arm under his nose, shaking his head.

“Did you break it?” he asked.

“What?” Jace snarled.

“Whatever you just punched.”

“No.” Jace paused. “Just busted a few knuckles.”

Alec smiled. He could tell from Jace’s voice that he was doing that thing, pretending he was tougher than he was.

“Did it hurt?”

“Like a son of a bitch.”

Tears sprang back into Alec’s eyes. “Try being in love with your straight best friend.”

“Fuck.” Jace sounded like he’d been punched in the gut.

“I’m sorry,” Alec whispered.

He was, and he wasn’t. He’d finally said it. Now there was nothing left unspoken about the subject.

“No,” Jace said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Because he didn’t feel the same way. Obviously. Alec shrugged and wiped a hand under his nose.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Want to beat me up again?”

Alec barked out a laugh. He remembered sitting on top of Jace by the horse paddock, pummeling him until Clary Fray of all people had pulled him off. He’d royally lost his mind that day.

“I didn’t really want to the first time.”

“Felt like you did.”

“I was just so angry. At myself. At you. Definitely at Clary Fray. She’s—"

“Still my girlfriend.”

“Yeah.” Alec sighed. “That’s probably why.” He chewed his lip. “I wanted you to hit me back.”

Jace scoffed. “Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.”

They both fell silent. Alec was still staring at the door across from the bed. His mind was oddly adrift. He was still processing the information that he hadn’t done what he thought he’d done at Izzy’s 15th birthday party.

Jace still loved him. Like a brother. Always like a brother.

Alec sighed. “We should probably get off the phone.”

“Why?”

“Because the international charges are going to obliterate both our phone bills.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Alec laughed. “It’s one in the morning here.”

“Do you want me to let you go?” Jace asked point blank.

Alec swallowed heavily. Did Jace really have to phrase it that way?

“No.”

“Then fuck the phone bill. My grandma’s filthy rich, and I’m her golden baby boy.”

Alec laughed. Sometimes, he forgot that Jace hadn’t grown up with money from the beginning. Ever since he’d realized Imogen Herondale couldn’t tell him no, he was prone to spend like crazy on the most ridiculous shit without a second thought.

“You’re awful.”

“I’m an irresistibly handsome rogue.” Jace’s sunny grin was audible over the line. “Speaking of which,” he continued, his voice suddenly less sunny. “Magnus Bane?”

Alec’s heart stuttered. Magnus’s name was the last thing he’d expected to hear from Jace. He hadn’t realized that his public stunt at FF would have such a long-lasting impact. He sighed.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“I mean, I don’t need the gory details,” Jace sounded a little queasy. “You’re still my brother.”

“Funny, Izzy always wanted the gory details.”

“Alec.”

He sighed. “I’m not sure there is a PG version.”

“I think I can handle PG-13.”

“It’s really more of a hard R.”

“Fuck it. Just go ahead. Lay it on me. I can take it.”

Alec chuckled.


	26. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Warning! Do Not Ignore!:**_ This chapter deals with unwanted sexual advances under the influence of alcohol. 
> 
> Other than that, I am still so happy that this story has so many kudos and comments by all you lovely people. We are getting closer to the end with every chapter. If all goes according to plan, there are only 3 more and an epilogue to go, so if you have any unresolved questions you really want an answer to, now is the time to ask. 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with this for so long and I hope you continue to enjoy it to the end.
> 
> ###### 

He was running. Bolting down a sickly beige sidewalk bumpy with cracks and random gray squares where bigger holes had been cheaply patched. The thin soles of his canvas shoes slapped hard against the pavement, jarring his bones with each impact. 

He knew exactly what he was running from. Cold wet lips and hot heavy breath rancid with stale alcohol.

He dashed past open bars and closed shops. Between the yellow streetlights, the neon signs, and the cacophonous overlapping music, everything smeared into a blur of blinding colors and deafening noise.

He leaped off a red-lined curb onto cracked orange-gray cement, darted across a sandy-gray median between two black palm trees and a dense black bush, right into the screaming breaks and blaring horn of an oncoming car.

Magnus jerked awake, gasping for breath.

That car had missed him by an inch. He didn’t remember the color or even the make. He just remembered a beat-up old clunker with a metal grill front that had almost taken him out at the knees because he’d run blindly across a busy boulevard in drunken panic.

He sat up in bed and rubbed his hands over his face, wiping the sleep out of the corners of his eyes.

Cabo was over.

He was back at Alicante.

By sheer dumb luck, nothing too terrible had happened to him that night.

Magnus cracked his neck and reached for his phone on the bedside table. It was barely 7:30 am.

He sent a group text to Cat, Raphael, and Simon.

**R u guys back yet? **

His gaze moved over to his suitcase, leaning against the chaise lounge where he had dropped it when he had gotten in late last night. He still had no inclination to unpack.

The phone vibrated in his hand with several incoming messages. They were all from Cat.

**Got back Friday. **

**Catching up. **

**Still mad at u.**

**Having breakfast w Simon.**

**Raphael @ church.**

**Sunday Mass in 30 min.**

Magnus screwed up his face and squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

He knew why Cat was mad, and he couldn’t blame her. Cabo had been a spontaneous decision in the wake of breaking up with Alec. Magnus hadn’t told anyone about that, and he hadn’t said a word about his travel plans until he had been practically walking out the door, headed to the airport.

It certainly hadn’t helped that Cat had still been grounded without phone or internet for the whole winter break as punishment for her punching Alec back in October.

Magnus had missed her like a lost limb. He wanted to see her. Even if she just yelled at him for five minutes before she ran off to go to church.

**Be there in 10.**

He shoved himself back into the sweatpants and hoodie he’d worn for his flight back from Mexico the day before and ran out the door.

Catarina and Simon were sitting at their group’s usual table in the mess hall. She was wearing her school uniform. Simon looked like he’d dressed in the first band-shirt and pair of jeans he had put his hands on.

“Magpie!”

Cat jumped out of her chair and pulled him into a fierce hug that lasted exactly as long as it took her to get a good whiff of him. Then she reared back with a revolted expression.

“You reek!”

He had no idea how messy he looked at the moment, but Cat seemed about a second away from licking her hand and sticking it in his hair, so he quickly straightened up and leaned out of her reach.

“Sorry, didn’t have time for a shower. I just missed you so bad.” He grinned over her shoulder at Simon. “You too, sunshine. Want in on this?”

“No way, dude. I can smell you from here.” Simon pinched his nose and waved his other hand in front of his face before he leaned forward and braced his chin on one hand. “How was Cabo?”

Magnus sighed. “It was unexpectedly eye-opening.”

Simon’s brows furrowed so deeply they almost disappeared behind the frames of his dorky glasses. He dropped his arm and started crumbling up the piece of banana bread on his plate.

“That doesn’t sound like it was fun.”

Magnus felt Cat’s grip tighten on his forearm. Her expression was a carbon copy of her dad’s serious scowl.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing too bad,” he said mildly, “but I want to talk to you guys. You’re off to the chapel, right?”

“Yeah,” she said with a suspicious frown.

“Can you come to my room after? And bring Raphael?”

“Sure,” she said slowly. “We’ll come see you as soon as we get back.” She turned to look at Simon. “You still gonna come out there to pick us up after Mass?”

“Yeah.” Simon nodded before he looked back at Magnus. “You could just tell us now, you know?”

Magnus smiled past Cat’s suspicious scowl at Simon’s nervous grimace and shook his head.

“It can wait, and I only want to tell it once.”

Simon accepted the explanation with a quiet grumble.

“Okay,” Cat said with a sigh. “Then I’m off for now.” 

She made a show of holding her breath and hugged him fiercely again, holding on for an extra moment before she let him go this time.

Magnus didn’t want to let her leave, but it was better this way. He could wait a couple more hours until everyone was in his room.

He watched Cat walk away and pulled himself together before he turned back to Simon.

“What are you doing up so early on a Sunday, anyway?”

Neither Simon nor he were early risers. The only reason Magnus was up was the damn nightmare.

Simon shrugged. “It’s weird sleeping alone after two weeks of sharing a bed.”

Magnus’s eyes widened with an intrigued smirk.

“Okay,” he drawled, “I’m going to go get some food, and then I want to hear all about that.”

Simon grinned. “You sure you don’t want to grab a shower first?”

Magnus grumbled. He was well aware he smelled a little ripe.

His gaze drifted around the room as he tried to decide what took priority.

The mess hall was practically empty.

If he could avoid the crowd, and especially one particular member of the eminent eight, Magnus was perfectly comfortable with having breakfast while he looked and smelled like he’d just fallen out of a crowded airplane after a 12-hour journey.

“No,” he answered Simon’s question with a sardonic smile, “but I promise I’ll stay down-wind from you.”

Back in his room after breakfast, Magnus had just enough time to take a shower, put on some makeup, and change into fresh clothes before the door flew open.

Cat let herself in with Raphael and Simon in tow.

She looked at his face, trailed her gaze down the combination of his favorite blue cashmere sweater with faded blue jeans and thick woolen socks, and dropped on the edge of his bed with her dad’s scowl firmly in place.

“All right, what’s wrong?” 

Raphael shifted his habitual glower from Magnus to Cat.

“You said it was nothing too bad.”

Cat shook her head with a huff. “I said, ‘he said it’s nothing too bad.’ I didn’t say I believed him. This…” She zigzagged her pointed index finger over Magnus’s makeup and outfit. “Means it’s bad.”

Raphael made a disgruntled noise, crossed his arms, and looked back at Magnus with raised brows. The fact that he was dressed in black from head to toe made his scowl appear even darker.

Simon closed the door quietly and leaned back against it with an anxious expression. He kept holding on to the doorknob, shifting his weight from one ratty sneaker to the other.

Magnus hadn’t even started and he was already making a mess of things. He fluttered his hands at Raphael and Simon. 

“Guys, can you just sit down, please? I didn’t mean to build up all this tension. I’m not dying or anything.”

Cat crawled up onto the bed and sat down with her back against the headboard. She pointedly patted the spot beside her.

Magnus sighed and settled down next to her, indescribably grateful when she wrapped herself around his arm and hooked her chin over his shoulder.

Raphael barely glanced at the open suitcase and the wrinkled clothes all over the chaise lounge before he rolled his eyes and climbed onto the mattress, settling down cross-legged.

Simon plopped down next to him, bracing himself on his hands with one arm behind Raphael’s back. His right leg hung off the side of the bed, twitching at the ankle until Raphael reached over and put his hand on Simon’s thigh. Simon put his hand down on top of Raphael’s and held it there.

Magnus didn’t bother to stifle his snicker.

He wished he had spent the winter break in New York with those two. From what Simon had told him over breakfast, they’d had a great time despite a few minor hiccups.

He wondered if what had happened to him in Cabo could be classified like that. 

Looking at the sum total of his friends sitting on the bed with him, Magnus was suddenly nervous as hell. He didn’t know how to start, so he started with the easiest thing.

“First, souvenirs!”

He tried to jump off the bed, but Cat’s grip on him turned iron tight before he could shift more than an inch.

“Fuck souvenirs,” she said firmly. “Tell us what’s going on with you.”

Magnus sighed and closed his eyes.

“Okay,” he said. “I guess I should start with the good news.” He chuckled. “Alec and I are done. For real this time.”

“What?” Simon said at the same that Cat said, “When?”

Raphael didn’t say anything, but he had a knowing look on his face.

“Right after midterms,” Magnus said. “That’s why the last-minute trip to Cabo.”

“I knew it!” Cat made a snarly noise and grumbled something indecipherable into his shoulder, rubbing his arm in a way that toed the line between comforting and painful. 

Simon’s face fell. “That sucks. I really thought you guys were starting to work things out. I’m sorry.”

Magnus’s brows flew up. He had no idea why Simon would think that, but it didn’t matter anymore. He was done with Alexander Lightwood. He was done with a lot of things.

“Yeah, so. Anyway. Cabo was mostly okay. I wanted to party, so I partied. I, um…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words. “Maybe a little too much?”

“Magpie?” Cat’s tone was quiet and full of worry. “What happened?”

She’d known him almost his whole life. She’d seen him spiral out of control and had helped him pick up the pieces afterward at least a million times, and she deserved so much better than that.

Magnus closed his eyes and chewed on the inside of his cheeks. He swallowed.

“New Year’s Eve things got out of control. I was drunk, really drunk, and I was partying at one of the clubs, hooking up with probably five people at the same time. There was this one guy. Older guy. Maybe like in his thirties?”

The guy had been really tall, and handsome, and he’d had a full head of messy black hair. Otherwise, Magnus wouldn’t have looked twice at someone that old.

“He seemed okay. I mean, nothing special. Anyway, so we started dancing, and then dancing turned into making out, and then he pulls me out the backdoor and before I know it, I’m up against the wall, and he’s like all over me. A million hands just everywhere.”

Magnus shuddered, remembering the unpleasant sensation. The rough, careless grip. The rank hot breath on his neck. The barely decipherable drunken murmurs.

He snorted.

“I think the fucker actually called me an ‘exotic beauty’.”

Cat sighed and tilted her head in sympathy. Raphael cringed and clenched his jaw. Simon looked skeeved out and confused.

Magnus shook it off and moved on.

“Anyway, I tried to get him to stop, but he wasn’t listening, so I, heh, stomped on his foot.”

It was not his proudest moment. He wished he could say he’d done something exceptional, like punched the guy, but they had been too close and his hands had been busy fending off the unsolicited groping.

“It worked. I got away. Ran ‘til I got to the nearest hotel. Scared the shit out of the concierge when I dove right behind her counter and hid in a corner. Real nice lady. Big lady. I remember thinking, ‘She’ll protect me if he comes after me.’ I was really drunk.”

She had seemed larger than life at the time, looking up at her from his crouch on the tile floor. Her kind face had had a warm complexion a few shades lighter than Catarina’s. Her bright orange lipstick had clashed horrifically with it.

“So, she asks me what’s wrong and calls me ‘cariño’, and I scrape together my Spanish to tell her I’m running from this guy and that my hotel is on the other side of the marina, and she just looks at me.”

He should have asked for her name. He didn’t even remember the name or the location of the hotel. He owed that woman more than she would ever know.

“Then she asks me if I want her to call the cops or a taxi. I picked the taxi, ‘cause let’s face it.” He rolled his eyes with a shrug.

What was he going to say? That some middle-aged white guy whose name he didn’t remember had hit on him, made lewd comments, and didn’t want to take no for an answer until Magnus stomped on his foot and ran off?

Catarina nodded, wrapped her arm around his middle, and hugged him tighter. She pressed a kiss to the shaved side of his head.

Magnus leaned into the hug and breathed out a long sigh.

“She let me hide behind her counter the whole time ‘til the taxi showed up. She had this enormous purse. Pulled out makeup wipes, and a bottle of soda, and three containers worth of fruit. I swear that thing was like a magical Mary Poppins’ bag.”

“Bag of holding,” Simon muttered under his breath.

Raphael snorted.

Cat clicked her tongue.

Magnus laughed. “Yeah, probably.” 

He remembered the woman’s unwavering insistence that he should eat, and drink, and clean up his face. The excessive mothering had probably kept him from passing out. By the time the taxi had showed up, he’d almost felt sober. 

“Anyway, I took the taxi back to my hotel and pretty much spent my last day in Cabo hiding, and packing, and reevaluating my appalling life choices.”

He let go of a long breath and looked from Cat, to Raphael, to Simon.

All three looked shocked, and sad, and Raphael, as usual, looked angry. 

Magnus hung his head. “I know I was stupid.”

“Yes,” said Raphael curtly.

“No,” said Cat just as quickly. “It’s not stupid to want to have fun.”

“It is,” Raphael insisted, “when you get so wasted you lose control over yourself.”

“Like you did at the first stable party?” said Simon quietly.

“Exactly like that. That was stupid. Irresponsible. I was lucky I was with you guys. Magnus wasn’t. Anything could have happened.”

Magnus stared at his lap. He could feel every ounce of the weight of Raphael’s glower on his head.

“I know.”

Cat’s arms tightened around him. She pressed another kiss to the side of his head.

Magnus sighed. “That’s kind of the other reason why I asked you guys to come up here.”

He studied his fingernails. The glittering purple and black nail polish he’d put on for New Year’s Eve had chipped off on several fingers.

He didn’t have to do this. He could just pretend the other reason was that he wanted to stop throwing parties at Club Chaos, but it wouldn’t be the whole truth, and it wouldn’t change anything.

Magnus took a deep breath and pulled himself out of Cat’s arms. He got up and stood by the side of the bed. He still couldn’t make himself look at anything other than his fingernails.

“There’s something else I have to tell you, and it’s not pretty, but I need your help, and if I don’t do this now, I’ll probably change my mind, so here goes.”

He walked around the bed to the other side, opened the cabinet on his bedside table, and pulled out the bottle of sour candy vodka from behind the Sandman omnibus. It was almost empty, even though he had only opened it the day after the holiday gala in New York. He set it down on the bedside table. 

“I drink,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I drink when I’m upset, and I drink when I’m sad, and I drink when I’m angry, and I drink when I’m lonely.”

He walked over to his suitcase and pulled out the silver flask that he carried practically everywhere he went.

“I drink all the time, and I hide when I do it, and I don’t want to do it anymore.” He took a deep breath and tossed the flask onto the bed between his friends. “So, I’m staging my own intervention.”

He made himself look up.

None of them looked angry or disappointed. They just looked worried.

Cat was out of the bed and had her arms around his neck in the time it took him to blink.

“I’m so proud of you.” She kissed his cheek and hugged him tight enough to cut off his air. “I love you.”

The awful fake lemon smell of her dreadful scrub bit his nose, but Magnus didn’t care. He hugged her back just as tightly.

“I love you, too.”

Over her shoulder, he could see Raphael and Simon exchange a long, meaningful look.

Simon squeezed Raphael’s hand and nodded once before he looked up at Magnus.

“My mom is…” He faltered. “She goes to meetings. She said they help. Maybe we can find a local AA group?”

Magnus was stunned. Simon had never really talked much about his family. Even if he had, Magnus would have never expected him to share something so personal. They’d only known each other for a few months.

“Thank you,” he said, barely getting the words out.

“Of course,” Simon said and smiled like it was no big deal. “We’re here for you.”

Raphael nodded. “If you want, I can talk to Father Aldertree. A lot of the time those meetings are in churches.”

Magnus recoiled at the thought.

Raphael continued, “Without mentioning your name or anything.”

Magnus shook his head. “Thanks, but I’d rather not have him involved, at all.”

Catarina let go of his neck and gently clasped his forearms. Her brows furrowed and she chewed on her bottom lip.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I know you don’t like him, but if he can help you get what you need--”

“I don’t need anything that man has to offer,” Magnus said sharply. “I’m sure I can find out what I need to know on the internet.” He breathed deeply and wiped a hand over his face. “What I really need is just a fresh start. No more parties, no more messing around.”

No more getting tangled up in relationships with people who ended up breaking his heart.

He knew that was easier said than done. Old habits died hard, and he’d never been very good at resisting temptation.

“You might have to sit on me,” he said jokingly, smiling down at Cat.

She snickered. “If I have to, I’ll make Raphael and Simon back me up. The added weight should keep you down.”

He chuckled. “That thought is far more appealing than it should be.”

Cat smacked his arm. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

He sobered up. “Seriously, though, I’ve got less than five months left in this place, and I still have to figure out what I’m going to do once I’m out. All I know is I don’t want to be my father’s puppet, and I don’t want to live just to spite him. There’s gotta be something better.”

Cat went back to hugging him, slinging her arms around his waist.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said confidently. “If worse comes to worst, we can sign up for the army together.”

Magnus wrinkled his nose. “Me in those abominable drab fatigues? Never going to happen.” 

Raphael snorted and rolled his eyes.

Simon snickered. “You sure? What about the parade uniforms? I saw the way you ogled her dad’s shiny stars and badges.” He cocked his head and grinned. “General Bane does have a ring to it. I mean, it sounds intimidating at the very least.”

Raphael cringed and shook his head. “We’d be doomed.”

“Cinna-bun!” Magnus gasped, grasping his heart in mock hurt. “Do you have no faith in me at all?”

“As a military leader? Hell, no. You can’t even keep your closet organized.” 

Magnus breathed through the unexpected pang of an uninvited memory with a breezy smile.

“I could easily delegate that task to someone else.”

They skipped lunch in favor of unhealthy snacks from the vending machines and hung out on his bed, swapping vacation stories.

Catarina had definitely drawn the short straw, spending most of her time helping her mom around the house or working in retail hell at the commissary on base. 

Magnus was thrilled to hear that his cinna-bun had made up with his best friend from back in New York. Lily Chen sounded like someone he would love to hang out with. 

The story about Clary Fray’s mother made him laugh in disbelief. He had heard nothing about it in Cabo. The news in Mexico was dominated by drugs and violence, not American soccer moms turning out to be notorious art thieves.

He was disappointed but not too surprised that Simon’s mother was the reason why Simon and Raphael had spent pretty much their entire vacation on Clary Fray’s couch. Magnus hoped Elaine Lewis just had a really slow learning curve.

“I’m sure she’ll come around,” he said with a smile, “and if she doesn’t, it’s her loss.”

When dinner time rolled around, they walked down to the Lightwood Building together.

The mess hall was full when they got there. Everyone else had apparently arrived back from vacation and decided to have dinner at the same time.

“Crap,” Cat sighed, “our table’s been taken over by freshmen. Again.”

Magnus clicked his tongue. “No respect for their elders.”

Simon snickered. “It’s not like we marked it or anything. Come on, I think I see one over there.” 

Raphael made a disgruntled noise when Simon pulled on his arm, but he let himself be dragged along anyway.

Magnus snickered as he watched the two dash ahead to secure the table Simon had spotted. He looped his arm through Cat’s as they followed at a more sedate pace.

“Best project we ever pulled off,” he commented lightly.

Cat hummed. “I don’t think we can take all the credit for that.”

“Oh, come on.” He nudged her shoulder. “I think we can take at least fifty percent. They’d never have talked to each other if we hadn’t picked them first.”

Cat waggled her head as she thought about it. Then she nodded. “Fair point.”

They joined Raphael and Simon at a small table near the tray holder trash receptacles at the back of the hall and took turns going to pick up their dinner.

On his way back to the table, Magnus caught a sound he’d only heard once before. It drove through him like lightning and made his heart twist around his guts.

Somewhere off to his right, Alec Lightwood was laughing.

Magnus didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to know. He was deathly afraid he would see Lydia Branwell sitting beside Alec, pointing in his direction.

The thought was ridiculous.

Magnus raised his chin and turned his head to look.

Lydia Branwell was sitting next to Alec, but she wasn’t laughing or pointing at Magnus. In fact, she looked peeved. Her angular jaw was clenched tightly and her steely eyes were narrowed, wrinkling the bridge of her sharp nose.

It wasn’t until she moved that Magnus could see Alec properly.

He looked happy and relaxed. He was smiling at the person across the table from him as if they’d hung the moon.

Magnus’s fingers tightened around the tray in his hands.

The person sitting across the table from Alec was Jace Herondale.

It should have made Magnus feel betrayed, but all he could feel was emptiness.

Next to Herondale, Clary Fray was talking rapidly, her face a brilliant shade of vermilion, as she smacked her boyfriend repeatedly in the shoulder.

Herondale took the abuse with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and an arrogant smirk on his face.

Alec laughed again. His eyes sparkled and his face lit up with genuine joy.

Magnus looked away and kept walking. He pasted a smile onto his face and pretended nothing had happened when he got back to Raphael, Simon, and Cat.

“You’d think they could come up with something more innovative than pot roast and potatoes for Sunday dinner. Culinary apathy, thy name is Alicante Academy.”

Magnus didn’t get much sleep that night. He couldn’t get the image of Alec’s face out of his mind or shake the sound of his laughter.

If he’d still had that bottle of vodka, he would have drained what was left of it. He hated himself for dumping it out into the sink.

He should have asked Cat to let him stay the night with her, but he hadn’t realized how bad it was going to get until it had gotten worse.

As soon as he squeezed his eyes shut, he saw it like a movie playing inside his mind.

It wasn’t the moment earlier in the cafeteria. It was the moment three months ago, right here in his bed, after their visit to Daddy, while they were bickering about safe words.

Magnus pounced on Alec and tickled him mercilessly, hanging on for dear life as Alec bucked and howled with laughter and refused to give in until he finally did.

“Color, Alexander!” 

“F-uh-RED!”

Alec was panting for breath. His face was bright red, the veins on his forehead popping out. His eyes glistened with tears from laughing so hard. His lips were twisted over his clenched teeth in an angry wet snarl.

He was the most desirable thing Magnus had ever seen in his life.

“Fuck!”

_I love you._

Only this time, Magnus had the fucking guts to say it. He said it, and he kissed Alec, and when he pulled back, Alec smiled at him like he’d hung the moon.

Magnus gritted his teeth, rolled over, and buried his face in his pillow, willing his mind to go blank and think of nothing at all.

When he crawled out of bed and into the shower the next morning, he felt like death warmed over. It took an unacceptable amount of effort to do his makeup properly. His hands were too jittery. Magnus clenched and unclenched his fingers to make them stop.

He actually took the time to make sure his uniform looked proper, but he still balked at tightening the ugly striped tie all the way up to his neck. He compromised by resting it loosely at the dip between his collarbones.

On his way out, his boot slipped on something and he almost banged his head against the door.

Magnus bent down and picked up the culprit.

Someone had shoved an envelope through the crack under his door. It was a soft shade of blue and had his first name written on the front in neat, unembellished cursive.

Magnus didn’t recognize the handwriting. He turned the envelope over to see if there was anything written on the back.

The center of the flap was embossed with a round seal that circled the capital letters A and L.

Magnus laughed despite the fact that he felt like he was choking around the lump in his throat.

“Asshole,” he muttered, “of course, you’d have personalized stationery.”

He shoved the letter into his jacket pocket and walked out the door.

Cat, Raphael, and Simon were already waiting for him at their regular table in the mess hall. Magnus took his seat next to Cat and made a face at the stack of pancakes in front of him.

“Should have gone for the muffins,” he grumbled to no one in particular.

“Don’t even think about it,” Simon said quickly.

Magnus looked up to see Simon’s fingers pushed against the edge of Raphael’s plate to keep him from moving it across the table. Magnus smirked.

“That really is a bad habit, cinna-bun,” he drawled, “but I’ll trade you?”

Raphael made a face. “You already drowned them in syrup.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “Food fire drill?”

She pushed her eggs and bacon toward Raphael, who pushed his muffin toward Magnus, who gave his pancakes to Simon, who pushed his French toast and turkey sausage to Cat.

“All good now?” she confirmed.

Magnus nodded and took a bite. It still didn’t taste like anything, but it was better than dealing with a whole stack of syrupy, buttery pancakes.

Luckily, Simon didn’t seem to mind if the way he was shoveling them into his mouth was any indication.

“So.” Magnus pulled the envelope out of his jacket pocket and placed it in the middle of the table between them. “This happened.”

“A letter?” Simon’s brows flew up behind his glasses as he mumbled the words around a mouthful of pancake. “That’s old school.”

Raphael scowled at him. “Chew. Swallow. Then speak.”

Simon made a production of chewing and swallowing that caused Raphael to avert his face with a noise of disgust.

“Who’s it from?” Cat asked suspiciously.

“Guess.” Magnus’s smile was as fake as it was brilliant.

Cat huffed. “Burn it.”

Raphael nodded. “I’d trash it.”

Simon’s hand lashed out and snatched up the envelope so quickly, Magnus jerked back in surprise.

“What the hell?”

Simon held it up, well away from everyone’s reach. “If you don’t want it now, let me keep it for you.”

Magnus jutted out his chin and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Who said I don’t want it?”

“Do you?”

He felt his heart twist around his guts. He did and he didn’t. He wanted to read the letter. But he also wanted to rip it up into a million little pieces, burn it, and forget he’d ever received it. What good could come of reading it? What could Alec possibly have to say to him after everything?

“Keep it,” he said through his teeth.

“I will.” Simon shoved the letter into his own jacket pocket. “Thanks.”

Raphael turned his head and raised his eyebrows at Simon.

“This is one of your movie-nerd things, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” Simon smiled brightly. “I’ve seen enough to know that he might want it eventually, so it’s better I protect it until it becomes relevant to the plot.”

Raphael covered his face with one hand and shook his head. The gesture did a terrible job of covering up the fond smile he was trying to hide. 

His cinna-bun might be a cantankerous grouch, but he was undeniably softer than cashmere when it came to Simon. 

Cat shook her head and muttered, “Galaxy far, far, far, far away.”

Simon stuck his tongue out at her.

Magnus chuckled and bumped her shoulder.

“How would you know?” he drawled. “You’ve never even seen the movies.”

Simon’s fork clattered onto his plate. “No way.”

Cat closed her eyes. “Shit.”

Simon turned to Raphael. “I have a very important mission for you while I’m at the tournament in Kentucky next weekend.”

Raphael grimaced with a pained groan, dropping the piece of bacon back onto his plate.

“Not all of them. Please. You can’t ask that of me.”

Simon grasped Raphael’s arm and looked at him with huge doe eyes behind his glasses.

“You are my only hope.”

“I’m not moved.”

“Grouch, please?”

Cat scoffed, staring between them with her mouth hanging open. “Do I get any say in this?”

“No,” Simon and Raphael said at the same time without looking at her, still locked in a staring contest between mob boss glower and puppy-dog eyes.

Magnus snickered and leaned against Cat’s shoulder.

“A hundred bucks on the puppy eyes.”

She rolled her eyes with a huff. “I’d be stupid to bet against that.”


	27. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. This chapter kicked my butt and real life obligations did not help get it done any sooner.   
Also, this is a little switch up, as we are starting this round with Simon's POV instead of Raphael's. (Because I was going to wrap things up and then I wasn't and... yeah.)
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.
> 
> ###### 

Simon pulled out his last field tip arrow from the target, checked it, and slipped it into his quiver.

“All right, everyone,” Coach Magdalena shouted from the middle of the gym, clapping her hands together. “That’s it for today. Don’t forget, there’s no practice on Friday. We’re meeting at the gates to get on the bus, and I swear if anyone shows up without their luggage again, we’re leaving without it this time.”

The whole team snickered. Well, everyone except Matthi, who had showed up at the bus with only his archery gear when they’d been ready to leave for the division tournament in New Jersey back in December.

“Also!” Coach Magdalena barked. “Remember to check your school email. The itinerary for the tournament and all the important info is there and nowhere else.”

Simon stifled a groan, and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone had an official email address provided by the school, but nobody bothered to use it. He couldn’t even remember his password, now that he thought about it, but he was pretty sure he’d saved it somewhere on his phone.

Another loud clap snapped him out of his thoughts.

“That’s all, folks. Get out of here, and I’ll see you on Friday at the gates. 3:00 pm sharp!”

By the time Simon made it down to the mess hall for dinner, Raphael, Cat, and Magnus were at their usual table, in the middle of a conversation.

Cat’s dark brown eyes burned with passion and her fork was taking angry stabs at the air in front of her.

“And then he starts going on about how women ‘historically’ have had no place on the battlefield. Seriously? You’d think he’d know better, but apparently he got his teaching degree in abridged history for dumbasses.”

Simon slid into his chair beside Raphael and hooked their ankles together to prevent his knee from bouncing. He couldn’t wait for his meds to kick in. His nerves were on edge after checking his school email.

His password had been saved, so logging in hadn’t been a problem. He had forwarded the tournament stuff to his actual email before he’d given a cursory glance to the dozen other emails that had accumulated since early December.

He had almost deleted the email from Isabelle Lightwood tucked between old notifications for Winter Wonderland and invitations to school clubs he had no interest in joining.

Izzy had written to apologize for what had happened at FF. She was in rehab, looking to make amends to the people she had hurt because of her drug addiction.

Simon wasn’t sure what to do with it. Was he supposed to respond? Was he supposed to just read the email and move on? Was he allowed to talk about it to other people, or would that betray some sort of confidence?

He’d never had to deal with anything like this before. His mom had just sat Becky and him down in the living room and had told them she was sorry for everything, and then they’d hugged and life had moved on.

This was different. Way more complicated. What if he responded and said the wrong thing? What if he didn’t respond and that was the wrong thing?

Raphael’s hand on his wrist snapped him out of his racing thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

When his eyes flicked up and around the table, he noticed all three of his friends were looking at him. He’d been fiddling with his fork.

_Shit. _

“I’m good,” he said with a forced smile, “just thinking.”

Cat bestowed him with a skeptical look from across the table.

“You’re acting weird,” she said bluntly. “You didn’t even pick up on my obvious Wonder Woman reference just now.”

“Oh.” Simon hadn’t heard a word of what she’d said since he’d sat down. He cringed. “Sorry.” 

Raphael’s expression darkened with a concerned scowl. His fingers were still curled loosely around Simon’s wrist.

“Did something happen at archery practice?” he asked quietly.

Magnus’s reaction was instantaneous. He lowered his fork back to the plate with the food still on it, looking extremely uncomfortable. His kohl-rimmed eyes were glued to a spot on the table between them.

“Did Alec say something to you?”

Simon jolted, completely caught off guard by the question.

“Huh? No. Why would he?”

He didn’t think Alec Lightwood knew that Izzy had written to him the day before New Year’s.

_Fuck, that was a whole week ago._

If she had expected an answer, she would have mentioned it to her big brother, right?

“No,” he said distractedly, “I haven’t really talked to the guy since before Thanksgiving.”

“You talked to Lightwood?” Raphael’s tone was sharp and the scowl on his face shifted from concern to consternation. “Why?”

Simon shrugged, still preoccupied with his thoughts about Izzy’s email. He pulled his hand out of Raphael’s grasp and dug into the pasta on his plate. 

“It was no big deal.”

It had been a short conversation more than two months ago. Simon wouldn’t have even remembered it if it hadn’t been so odd. Alec Lightwood asking him for relationship advice was definitely a good fit for Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

Raphael tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “What did you talk about?”

“He just asked me something about Magnus.”

Magnus inhaled sharply. “He asked about me?”

“Magpie,” Cat said sternly.

“I just want to know,” Magnus insisted with an unhappy frown.

“Well, he…” Simon sighed and lowered his fork again. At this rate, his food was going to get cold. “He wanted to know what you liked, I guess? I mean, that’s not how he phrased it. He was all, ‘What does he want from me?’ which was weird.”

Simon remembered how uncomfortable Alec had been. How he had gone from that blank Terminator-face to that expression that had reminded Simon so much of Raphael trying to hide his embarrassment behind anger.

“I guess Lydia must have been pretty demanding as a girlfriend or something? I don’t know, but he seemed genuinely confused when I told him he should just be nice and that just because you like him, it doesn’t mean you expect any big romantic gestures or anything.”

Magnus’s eyes widened under a wrinkled forehead. “What?”

“Remember, you told me you didn’t do Hallmark Channel stuff? Was I not supposed to tell him that? I’m sorry.”

Magnus sat back with slumped shoulders and a faraway look in his eyes.

“So, he knew,” he said faintly.

“Knew what?”

“You told him that I liked him.”

“Um, you guys were still dating at the time. Remember, this was before Thanksgiving.”

Simon was confused. He had no idea how they’d ended up on the subject of Alec Lightwood. He just wanted to get back to freaking out about how to respond to a week-old apology email from Izzy for passing him an ecstasy pill during their one and only kiss at Fall Formal. 

“Right,” Magnus said flatly.

Even with his thoughts mostly circling the drain around Izzy’s email, it was impossible to miss the uncomfortable look that passed between Magnus, Raphael, and Cat.

“Okay, guys, what am I missing here?”

“Nothing,” Magnus said firmly. “It doesn’t matter because it’s over.” He straightened up and picked up his fork. “I had my fifteen minutes of drama. Your turn. What has you acting all...?” He swirled the utensil around in the air. “Discombobulated.”

Simon sighed. He wanted to know what that look had meant, but he could always ask Raphael later. Right now, he really needed advice on the Izzy situation.

“Isabelle Lightwood sent me an email,” he blurted before he leaned forward and lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. “To apologize for what happened to me at FF.”

Raphael snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “You mean for what she did to you.”

Magnus blinked rapidly. “Okay, now I’m missing something.”

Catarina’s brows furrowed in suspicion. “Is this about what I think it is? The reason why Simon disappeared all of a sudden?” She stabbed a forkful of pasta and shoved it into her mouth.

“You disappeared from FF?” Magnus asked with a grimace of confusion.

“I didn’t disappear!” he defended himself. “I only went to the locker rooms.”

“You went to the locker rooms with Isabelle Lightwood?” Magnus raised his brows and whistled through his teeth.

“No!” Simon protested, ridding him of the ridiculous notion. “Alone. Until Raphael found me.”

“Why have I never heard of this?” Magnus threw his hands up with a disapproving glare around the table.

“Don’t feel bad,” Cat said between bites. “I didn’t get the full story either, but whatever it was made him really mad.” She nodded her chin toward Raphael. “He looked ready to tear someone limb from limb when I caught him coming out of the locker rooms. You should have seen it, all, ‘I’ll handle it.’” She did a reasonable imitation of Raphael’s angry growl-and-scowl before she dropped the act and went back to her regular voice. “Then he tore off faster than I could figure out where he was going.”

Raphael’s scowl deepened and his arms showed no signs of uncrossing any time soon.

“I wasn’t that bad,” he rumbled.

“Yeah, you were.” Cat rolled her eyes with a snort and leaned toward Magnus. “If he’d been wearing a coat, it would’ve billowed.”

“The bitch drugged Simon.”

Simon tucked his head down and took a sip from his water to hide a smile. He really shouldn’t feel all warm and fuzzy at the murderous tone in Raphael’s voice.

“Anyway,” he said, dragging the word out to get the subject back on track. “She apologized for that in her email, but now I don’t know what to do. Do I reply? Do I say thank you? Like, what am I supposed to do here?”

“Let her rot.” Raphael’s tone was uncompromising.

Simon’s jaw dropped as he looked at his boyfriend. He’d had no idea how tenaciously Raphael could hold on to a grudge.

“That’s terrible,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You’re too nice,” Raphael grumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, well, I hope it rubs off on you. Remember, forgiveness is a virtue, too.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Raphael looked like he wanted to say more, but he clamped his mouth shut and clenched his jaw so hard that the muscle in his cheek twitched.

Magnus snickered. “I think this is one of those subjects where our cinna-bun is an immovable object.”

Simon shrugged. “That’s fine, but I still think I should respond somehow. I mean, it doesn’t feel right to just ignore it.”

Magnus cocked his head to the side and leaned forward onto the table.

“Do you forgive her?”

Simon thought about it. Could he forgive a girl he barely knew for slipping him drugs that sent him into a crippling anxiety attack?

To be honest, he hadn’t even thought about the whole thing in months. When he thought about it now, the first thing he remembered was lying in Raphael’s lap. Raphael’s fingers combing through his hair. That amazing rumbling voice somehow failing to hit a single note in the simple tune of ‘The Ants Go Marching’.

He smiled. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Magnus shrugged. “Then just tell her that.”

Simon curled up in the hard fabric seat and stared out of the window at the passing backwater landscape along the highway. Dark green and muddy, with a lot of trees and very little snow.

He had put his headphones in and started his favorite playlist as soon as Coach Magdalena had finished yelling instructions from the front of the bus.

They had already picked up the kids from the other two schools that completed their tournament team. It was still more than an hour ride to Connecticut.

He caught the hazy reflection of someone passing by in the aisle just before a hefty weight dropped into the empty seat beside him.

Simon jerked. He twisted around, popping his headphones out, and came face to face with Lydia Branwell.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in her signature French braid, making her angular features look even harsher as she stared at him with pursed lips and narrowed steel blue eyes.

“You’re friends with Magnus Bane, right?”

Put on the spot, trapped in the window seat, with Lydia looking ready to bite his head off, Simon’s anxiety immediately reared its ugly head.

“Yeah?”

He closed his eyes for a moment to stop them from skittering and forced himself to breathe slowly and evenly.

Lydia made an impatient noise. “So, you know about him and Alec?”

Simon opened his eyes and stared at the headphone cord tangled around his fingers.

“Uh-huh. Sure, yeah.”

He started to click the earbuds together, focusing on the hollow clacking sound they made. He wished she would just go away.

“What do you want?” he blurted.

Lydia leaned back into her seat. She linked her fingers over her lap and scowled at the backrest in front of her as if it had done something to personally offend her.

“Did he tell you that Alec wrote him a letter?”

Simon froze. He knew exactly what letter she was talking about. It was tucked between the pages of Simon’s notebook in his nightstand back at school for safekeeping.

“Why?” he asked cautiously.

“Did he, or did he not tell you that Alec wrote him a letter?”

Simon shrank back against the window. He suddenly felt like he was on the witness stand under cross-examination in some TV-show trial.

“You’re gonna be a lawyer, aren’t you?”

“Just answer the question,” Lydia snapped.

Simon writhed. Obviously, she already knew about the letter, so it wasn’t like he was giving away anything important if he admitted he knew about it, too.

“Yeah?”

Lydia didn’t miss a beat. “Did Magnus read it?” 

Simon snapped his mouth shut. Intimidated or not, he wasn’t going to just blab about Magnus’s personal business.

He took a deep breath, imagined Raphael’s mob boss scowl, and willed himself to imitate it as best as he could.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

His voice was nowhere near as low or threatening as Raphael’s, but at least it had come out firm and clear.

Lydia’s shoulders stiffened. “It is my business because Alec is my friend.”

“Then tell your friend…” Simon stopped himself. “No, you know what? Never mind. I’ll tell him myself. Let me out.”

He wasn’t going to be threatened, and he was not going to let Lydia of all people drag him into any kind of conflict.

Instead of waiting for her to move, Simon pushed himself up onto his seat and climbed over her out into the aisle.

“What? Wait! I didn’t—”

Simon didn’t wait. He barreled down the skinny passage between two rows of seats, looking left and right until he found Alec Lightwood a few rows from the back of the bus, napping against a window with his headphones in and his school jacket tucked under his chin.

Before he could say anything, Lydia Branwell grabbed his arm from behind and yanked him back.

“He doesn’t know,” she whispered harshly into his ear. “Come back. Please.”

“Hey!” Coach barked from the front of the bus. “Get your butts back in your seats!”

Simon groaned. He let himself be dragged back to his own row where Lydia plopped into the window seat and pulled him down next to her.

“He has no idea I’m talking to you,” she said quietly. “He’s been fretting about the letter for days now, but he won’t do anything about it. He probably wrote in some stupid promise about letting Magnus come to him first, so now he feels compelled to stay away.”

Simon felt his whole face scrunch up with surprise and disbelief.

“Really?” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Doesn’t that seem like overkill?”

Lydia scowled. “Alec Lightwood is physically incapable of breaking a promise.”

Simon opened his mouth to voice his doubt, but he didn’t get that far.

“Seriously,” Lydia insisted. “We’ve fought about this. I mean, a career politician who won’t make promises he can’t keep? I don’t even know where he gets it. Everyone else in his family lies as easy as breathing.”

Simon blinked, processing the unexpected torrent of information. He was afraid if he followed Lydia down the rabbit hole, he could get carried away into saying too much.

“So?” he said carefully.

“So, I’m doing what needs to be done. This drama is messing him up, and, if you think that doesn’t concern you, consider the fact that we’re bound to crash and burn before we ever make it to Nationals because of it.”

Simon’s brows furrowed as he gaped at her in disgust. “So, this is really all about the championship?”

“He can’t focus,” Lydia snapped, “because he’s a mess, which means I can’t focus because I’m too busy worrying about him. I’m just letting you know that you have a dog in the fight. Unless you don’t care about winning the tournament?”

“Oh.” Simon huffed out a laugh. “You’re trying to manipulate me into telling you about the letter because you think I care more about winning a tournament than my friendship with Magnus?”

“Essentially.” Lydia’s scowl deepened.

Simon shook his head sadly. “You know that’s totally messed-up, right?”

Lydia didn’t say anything, but at least she had the decency to look uncomfortable.

Simon sighed. “Look, I’ll…” He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he definitely didn’t plan on doing anything by proxy through Lydia. “Let me think about it.”

He got up and stepped into the aisle, motioning for Lydia to get out and go back to her own seat, probably the one next to Alec.

Lydia remained seated and crossed her arms over her chest.

Simon rolled his eyes. “If you’re not going to move, I’m just gonna go find another seat.”

She grudgingly pulled herself out of the row and stopped, standing toe to toe with him.

“Think fast.”

Simon nodded stiffly.

_I always do._

To his relief, Lydia didn’t bother him again after that. Simon still kept a wary eye on her and Alec Lightwood as soon as they got off the bus.

The guy didn’t look so good. He was doing his best Terminator impression, but it didn’t cover up the fact that his eyes had huge dark circles under them.

Simon still hadn’t decided what to do while they stood around the fancy lobby of the Manchester Hilton.

“All right, everyone, grab your room key when I call your name, and then you’re free to roam until dinner at 6:00 pm.”

Simon barely paid attention to Coach Magdalena, except to listen for his name as she rattled off her checklist.

“Laghari, 315. Lewis, 317. Lightwood, 319.”

He grabbed his plastic keycard and headed to the elevators, putting his headphones in to have an excuse not to talk to anybody.

He was acutely aware of the fact that Alec Lightwood took the same elevator and headed in the same direction once they stepped off. Thanks to their last names, their rooms were right next to each other.

Simon’s cell phone pinged with incoming messages while he opened the door to his room. He checked as soon as he had dropped his duffel bag next to the bed.

**I hate you.**

**Why am I watching this?**

**It’s C-SPAN in space with robots and laser swords. **

Simon snickered. Clearly, Raphael had made the decision to start with Episode I. He wouldn’t be surprised if Cat lost all interest before she ever made it to the good movies.

He quickly messaged back.

**Stick with it. It’ll get better.**

**And they’re called light sabers.**

He looked up at the black screen of the TV on the dresser across from the bed. It had been a while since he’d seen the movies.

His phone pinged again.

**The things I do for my friends…**

Simon’s smile faltered. Cat had inadvertently made his decision for him. He responded with a hug emoji and dropped his phone on the bed.

Shoving his keycard in his back pocket, he left his room, walked one door down to 319, and knocked.

Alec Lightwood opened the door. He was still dressed in the long-sleeved shirt and slacks of his school uniform, but he’d removed the tie and popped the top button. His long dark brows rose high on his forehead for a second before his expression smoothed out into the Terminator stare.

“Lewis,” he said blandly.

“Why does everyone keep doing that?” Simon whined in annoyance. “It makes me feel like we’re stuck in some boarding school drama. It’s Simon. Simon. It’s not that hard. Go ahead, try it out. Si—mon.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Simon?”

Simon licked his lips and looked around nervously. “I want to talk to you about Magnus?”

He cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, ready to have the door slammed in his face. When that didn’t happen, he opened his eyes and shoved his glasses up his nose.

Alec was staring at him with one hand on the doorknob. His Terminator-face crumbled under the weight of his crinkled brows.

“Come in.”

Simon slid past him into the room and managed not to jump when the door closed firmly behind him.

The room was pretty much an exact copy of Simon’s: expensive dark-brown furniture, heavy golden curtains, and thick black carpet with some kind of rhombic print. The en-suite bathroom was on the right where Simon’s was on the left.

“I know you wrote him a letter,” Simon blurted out before he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned around.

Alec stood stiff as a rod with his hands folded behind his back, blocking the door.

“He told you?”

Simon squirmed. “I kinda took it from him.”

_Shit. That didn’t come out right._

“I didn’t read it or anything,” he added quickly. “I’m just keeping it safe. He didn’t want to read it, which is why he didn’t respond.”

He cringed. He probably shouldn’t have told Alec any of this.

Alec worked his jaw like he was chewing on something unpleasant.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you so you know!” Simon’s hands flew out of his pockets and flapped around in frustration. “So, you can move on, and tell your ex-girlfriend to butt out and leave me alone.”

Alec blinked and nodded. He was still standing in front of the door with his hands folded behind his back, looking like a Vulcan struggling with the concept of emotions.

Simon squared his shoulders. Message delivered, he took a couple steps toward the door, expecting Alec to get out of his way.

Alec didn’t move. His Terminator-face was turned to the carpet between his feet.

“He doesn’t want to read my letter?” he asked tonelessly.

Simon’s shoulders sagged. “Dude, can you blame him? I mean, I don’t really know what happened, but I know he was miserable pretty much the whole time you guys were dating.”

Alec’s head snapped up. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but then he clamped it shut and averted his gaze with a mulish scowl.

Simon frowned. He thought of the strange look that had passed between Magnus, Cat, and Raphael at dinner on Wednesday when he had brought up Alec and Magnus dating. He had never gotten around to asking Raphael what it had meant.

“Look,” he asked bluntly, “do you still like him?”

Alec flinched. “What?”

Simon sighed. “Do you still like Magnus, like, really like him?”

Alec pursed his lips and stayed quiet for a long moment, looking about as comfortable as a Vulcan in the beginning stages of Pon Farr.

_He’d make a great Spock._

“I don’t know.”

The quiet, dejected answer snapped Simon out of his wayward train of thought.

“Okay,” he said slowly, baffled. “You should probably figure that out first, and then maybe you can try talking to Magnus, directly, instead of writing a letter.”

Alec gritted his teeth.

Simon shifted on his feet and pointed at the door behind Alec’s back.

“Would you mind?”

Alec moved stiffly, staring at a spot somewhere on the opposite wall as he stepped aside and opened the door.

Simon paused on the threshold, feeling like he should say something else. Lydia’s words on the bus came back to him.

_Alec Lightwood is physically incapable of breaking a promise._

“You know,” he said. “Magnus didn’t read the letter, so, it doesn’t count. Whatever you said or maybe promised in there? It doesn’t count until Magnus hears it.”

He hoped it made sense. He hoped it made a difference. Mostly, he just hoped that this was the last time he got dragged into the messed-up thing between Alec and Magnus.

Their team was tanking hard. Simon did his best, and, despite Lydia’s threat on the bus, her aim was impeccable. Unfortunately, between Alec and Raj’s miserable performances, there was no making up for lost points.

Coach Magdalena was livid. She barely kept her acerbic comments at a PG-rating. Simon kept waiting for her to accidentally drop the F-bomb.

By the time she was done chewing them out after their final round for the day, Simon was ready to run and hide in his hotel room. Of course, he’d have to get through the changing room gauntlet first, and somehow avoid Lydia on the way back to the Hilton.

“Monkey!”

The unexpected cry of his nickname made him cringe before he turned around to see who had shouted it. His eyes nearly popped out through his glasses when he saw his mother stumble down the bleachers toward him.

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

Her clothes were a dead give-away. Under her winter coat, she was dressed in her favorite pair of comfy jeans and the old yellow jersey she had worn the couple of times she had come out to one of Simon’s marching band gigs at his old high school.

“I came to support your team,” she said, shrugging with a pained smile. “Looks like I didn’t do a good job.”

“Yeah.” Simon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we’d have won if only you’d worn the team colors.”

“There are team colors?” Her eyes went wide in dismay.

Elaine Lewis was beholden to appearances. Heaven forbid she was dressed incorrectly for any occasion.

Simon groaned. “No, Mom. It’s not like football.”

“Oh. Okay.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

His gear felt heavier by the second, and the skin under his armguard was starting to itch.

“It’s nice that you came,” he said, hating how awkward he sounded.

“But?” she asked warily.

Simon could still hear her, coldly declaring that Raphael had to leave. They hadn’t talked to each other since then.

“But nothing’s changed,” he said firmly, trying to ignore the way she winced at his tone.

“I wanted to talk to you about that.” His mom shoved her hands into her coat pockets and looked around furtively. “Is there somewhere more private?”

“Why? I’m not embarrassed to talk about it right here.”

Except, Coach Magdalena would give him hell if he held up the bus going back to the hotel.

“Never mind,” he said quickly. “Just let me tell Coach that you’re here. We can talk in the car or whatever.”

They found the coach bickering with her counterparts in the hallway outside the locker rooms. She gave him permission to leave with his mom as long as he was back in his hotel room by curfew.

After he changed out of his tournament clothes, they met up at the entrance and walked out to the parking lot together.

Sitting side by side in the front of his mom’s SUV, staring silently out of the windshield, Simon had never felt so awkward or so determined to stick to his guns.

“I love him, Mom.” When he saw her reflection open her mouth, he barreled on before she could try to argue the point. “He’s amazing. He’s so smart. He runs circles around me in physics and math, but he still explains it to me, even a hundred times if he has to.”

He stared at her reflection in the windshield and at the cars in the parking lot beyond.

She had pressed her lips tightly together and her eyes were narrowed. It looked like she was just waiting for him to finish.

Simon wasn’t done by half.

“And he does stuff for charity, all the time. He goes to church every day, Mom, not just on the major holidays, and he volunteers at a retirement home every Saturday.”

Simon kept his hands in his jacket pockets and willed himself not to fidget. He refused to give his mom an opening to dismiss anything he said as neurotic rambling.

“He knows everything about me.”

He turned his head and looked at her directly to drive home that everything meant everything. Her alcoholism. His anxiety.

“He’s seen me at my worst, and he still loves me. He would never, ever do anything to hurt me. Don’t you want that for me?”

His mom hung her head and swallowed. She started to wring her hands in her lap.

“Of course, I want that for you, monkey. I just wanted you to have that with a nice Jewish girl from New York.”

Simon scoffed. “Raphael is nice and he’s from New York. That’s two out of four.”

He wanted to add that was all she was going to get, but he wasn’t trying to start a fight.

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she just kept staring at her lap and wringing her hands.

The lump in his throat was sudden and overwhelming.

“I told him you’d love him,” he said bitterly. “I told him you’d see how amazing he is and you’d...” The disappointment was choking him. “I was so sure that you loved me enough…”

“Of course, I love you!” Elaine whipped around in her seat and grabbed his arm. “I will always love you. You are my baby boy. There is nothing in this world that could ever make me not love you.”

Simon clenched his jaw. “Then why can’t you love him, too?”

“It’s not as easy as you make it sound,” she whispered, tears welling up.

“Nothing worth having comes easy.” 

She burst out laughing and quickly wiped her eyes. “Now you sound like your grandmother.”

He shrugged. “Bubbe Helen’s usually right about stuff.”

“I know.” His mom sighed. “She never lets me forget it, either.”

“What did she say about me and Raphael?” Simon chewed on his lip.

“A lot.” His mom laughed shakily. “But it basically boiled down to ‘never again means never again’ for everyone.”

Simon nodded. He wasn’t surprised that Bubbe Helen would go there. She was the only survivor of her whole family. She’d been a tireless activist all her life since.

“She’s right.”

“I know!” His mom flung herself back into her seat and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m trying. I am. I promise.” She vigorously wiped her face. 

The lump in his throat shrank considerably. It meant everything to hear her say that. He managed a smile.

“You know,” he said cautiously, “there are team colors for LGBTQ parents.”

His mom groaned out a laugh. “Too soon, monkey.”

When he got back to his hotel room, he immediately turned on his phone to call Raphael. As soon as it came alive, the screen filled up with message notifications.

Cat had been keeping a running commentary on the Star Wars movies. The last message was ten minutes old.

Simon rolled his eyes and swiped them away.

Raphael picked up on the second ring.

“You owe me for this,” he said without a proper greeting. “She’s a monster.”

Simon snickered. “Just remember, you are serving the greater good.”

“What greater good? It’s a bunch of silly sci-fi movies.”

“Soap opera in space!” Cat’s voice hollered from somewhere in the background.

Simon cringed. “She hates them, doesn’t she?”

Raphael chuckled. “She loves to loathe them. Magnus is getting a kick out of it.”

Simon’s smile turned into a triumphant grin. “Excellent.”

He had hoped that extended movie time with friends would cheer Magnus up. Now, he had more great news to share.

“Listen,” he said, heart hammering in his chest. “I talked to my mom.”

“Oh.” Raphael sounded wary. “Did she call?”

Simon shook his head. “She actually came all the way out here.” His knee started to bounce as he stared at the TV across the bed. “She wants to have dinner with us when she comes out for parent weekend. She wants to apologize and start over. She’s trying. She says she’s really trying, and I believe her.”

Raphael didn’t say anything.

Simon could hear Cat and Magnus bickering in the background.

“Oh, my god! She’s his sister?!” 

Simon cringed, unable to hold back a hysterical chuckle. He wished Raphael would just say something already.

“Grouch?”

“Yeah,” Raphael said faintly. “Yeah, of course. We can do dinner.”

“Are you okay?” Simon asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Raphael said again. “I just… didn’t expect that.”

“I know. Me either.” Simon smiled, thinking about how he was going to thank Bubbe Helen for this. He shook himself out of it. “Anyway, I just wanted to share the good news. I’ll let you get back to the movie.”

“Right.” Raphael’s tone was immediately sharp. “You still owe me for this. Big time.”

Simon snickered. “I know.”

He didn’t mind. Raphael could ask him for anything and he’d gladly do it. Even if it meant another charity book drive or spending hours putting together pamphlets for a church event.

“Anything for you.”

Raphael’s low chuckle ghosted down his spine like the brush of cold fingertips.

“You’ll regret saying that when I call in the favor.” 


	28. Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_WARNING! DO NOT SKIP!:_** This chapter contains the death of a minor character and Raphael's reaction to it as well as talk about what happened to Raphael's family who died before this story began. If that sort of thing is too much, please, stop reading this chapter after Simon suggests he and Raphael should visit Bubbe Helen in Naples over the summer break.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the continued kudos and feedback. I love every single one, and I hope you'll stick with me until the end of this ride.
> 
> ###### 

With the tables pushed up against the walls to carve out space for a dancefloor in the middle, Sunny Meadow’s main cafeteria had been converted into a makeshift ballroom.

A bouquet of red, white, and pink roses sat in the center of each table, surrounded by an explosion of shiny paper hearts in the same color scheme.

Larger paper hearts were taped to every single picture window facing east and scattered randomly between the paintings along the other walls. Even the official notice board by the entrance hadn’t escaped unscathed.

Love songs from the 1950s played over the speaker system, some long-gone crooner warbling about rivers, and stars, and the moon. 

The sickening smell of sugar and roses clogged the air.

Raphael crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

Simon stepped up beside him and gently bumped into his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “you don’t get to be grouchy about this. You volunteered.”

Raphael gritted his teeth. “I didn’t realize it was going to look like this.”

Magnus popped up on Simon’s other side. He waved a white chocolate covered pretzel sprinkled with sugar hearts at their surroundings.

“I have to agree with our cinna-bun. The décor leaves a lot to be desired. So cliché.”

“I think it looks lovely.” Cat snatched the pretzel out of Magnus’s hand and took a bite, quickly twisting away when he tried to wrestle the snack back from her.

Raphael opened his mouth to scold them, but they were both laughing as Magnus chased Cat across the room back to the buffet tables.

Simon snickered. “It doesn’t really matter if we like it, right? As long as it makes them happy.”

Raphael wasn’t sure if Simon was talking about their friends or the residents of the Sunny Meadow retirement community. Either way, the sentiment applied.

He grudgingly agreed with a hum and a nod.

“Grouch,” Simon mumbled fondly, bumping his shoulder again.

That nickname had become a thing sometime over the winter break. At first, Raphael had wanted to shut it down, but something had stopped him.

He vastly preferred it over ‘babe’, not just because Simon seemed to only call him ‘babe’ when he was severely stressed out. ‘Grouch’ fit him, and it wasn’t sugary sweet.

“Did you make sure to mark the sugar free punch?”

“Of course.” Simon rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I kept everything nice and separate and marked in big bold letters: gluten free, sugar free, nut free.” He shrugged and started to bounce excitedly on his heels. “More importantly, I brought games. All the games.”

“Puppy,” Raphael grumbled under his breath before he continued, not bothering to hide his exasperation, “I don’t think anyone here is going to want to fight Lovecraftian monsters or try to stop a pandemic on Valentine’s Day.”

Some of the residents were still spry and active for their age, but by far not all of them. Raphael expected a few couples to shuffle around the dancefloor while everyone else assembled around the tables and talked about old times. 

He had tried to tell Simon as much when he’d called in the favor for suffering through the Star Wars ennead with Cat, but the words had fallen on deaf ears.

Simon narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. “You just wait.”

An hour later, Raphael had to admit that Simon had been right. Several of the rose bouquets had been banished to an empty table near the buffet to make room for game boards and playing cards.

Magnus was in his element, dealing a poker game surrounded by several gentlemen and a red-haired dame with the eyebrows of an old Hollywood starlet and the voice of a chain-smoking sailor.

Cat was going back and forth between helping the nurses fetch refreshments for the wheelchair bound residents, playing Magnus’s lucky charm at the poker table, and taking her turn among eight other players at one of Simon’s adventure games.

Simon kept shooting him triumphant looks from the dancefloor, where he was stuck dancing with every single female resident who could still stand on her own two feet.

Raphael, for his part, had been glued to Rosa’s side since he had brought her down from her room.

She had forgiven him for abandoning her over the holidays, or maybe she had forgotten. Her wrinkled face was beaming with joy as she talked at him in mostly incomprehensible fragments of sentences.

“My angel, look at the booful owlers,” she said, pointing at the rose bouquet on the table between them. “You should be out, out with booful girls, dancing, talking, mancing.”

She gently swayed her hands back and forth in front of her, staring past him toward the dancefloor.

Raphael smiled. “That’s all right, Rosa. I prefer sitting here, talking with you.”

He wouldn’t be dancing with any beautiful girls regardless, but that was hardly important.

A warm hand on his shoulder was all the warning he got before Simon collapsed into the chair beside him.

“Ok, I have to tag you in. I don’t think I can feel my feet anymore. There’s just this burning sensation below my ankles where they used to be. And I didn’t even get to play a single round of Agricola yet.” 

Simon raised his head from his hand where it was still resting on Raphael’s shoulder and shot him the most desperate puppy-dog look in his arsenal.

Raphael cringed.

“Rosa,” he said, “this is Simon. Simon, meet Rosa.”

“Oh, my angel.” Rosa sighed.

The tone in her voice made the smile slip from his face. He turned his head with trepidation.

Her joyful expression was gone, replaced by a worried frown. Her lip wobbled as she started to shake her head.

Raphael froze, suddenly hyper-aware of the warm pressure of Simon’s hand on his shoulder. He cut a glance to his boyfriend, hoping this wouldn’t go as badly as he feared.

Simon’s smile didn’t diminish one iota.

“Hello, Rosa,” he said cheerfully. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Raphael has told me a lot about you. He says you are really good at Scrabble. Maybe we could play a round sometime?”

His hand never left Raphael’s shoulder.

Rosa blinked and shook her head, her frown displaced by a grimace of confusion.

“Who?”

Simon closed his eyes and cursed under his breath, mumbling a quick apology.

They had talked about the fact that Rosa thought Raphael was her little brother and that everybody should avoid using his name in front of her.

Raphael ducked his head with a thin chuckle.

“Raphael is a mutual friend of ours,” he said smoothly. “Remember, Rosa, I told you I made friends at school?”

“Yes, friends,” Rosa said, her gaze moving between Simon’s face and his hand on Raphael’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Simon said, grinning nervously. “The kind of friends who rescue each other from getting blisters on their feet from dancing.” He turned his puppy-eyes on Raphael again. “Please?”

Raphael clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to leave Rosa, but he also didn’t want to remain in this awkward situation.

“Ten minutes,” he said firmly. “I’ll tap in for ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Simon’s smile was blinding.

Raphael smiled back before he caught himself and smoothed out his expression.

The moment he made himself available, he was dragged into a waltz by a heavy-set lady with steel-gray curls and the grip of a professional wrestler.

He still kept an eye on Simon and Rosa from the dancefloor.

At first, she clearly didn’t take to Simon. Her face was stern and she didn’t say much.

Simon on the other hand was doing an enormous amount of talking, probably covering up his anxiety by prattling on without a filter. Hopefully, he wouldn’t say anything that made Rosa mad.

Raphael did not want Simon to go through the same shock he had experienced when Rosa had gotten so angry that she had slapped him in the face.

To his surprise, Rosa’s expression lightened considerably by the time Raphael’s dance partner changed to a tiny white-haired lady whose veiny hands felt as frail as porcelain in his grip. 

Simon was still talking, but now he stopped sporadically to listen to something Rosa was saying. 

When Rosa leaned across the table and patted the back of Simon’s hand with a serene look on her face, Raphael nearly stumbled over his own feet.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly.

“Ya know,” drawled his dance partner, “you’re really not being very discreet.”

He furrowed his brows and looked down at the frail lady in his arms.

“I’m sorry?”

She blinked her dark brown eyes owlishly and smiled with crooked yellow teeth.

“One of my grandsons is that way, too. He’s about your age. If that boy over there is not interested, I can give you my Benny’s number.”

“What?” Raphael almost stumbled over his own feet again. “No, I’m... He’s…”

He could feel the heat climb up his neck and spread on his face like lava. He forced himself to take a deep breath and form a complete sentence.

“Thank you, but that’s my boyfriend over there.”

“Oh,” said his dance partner, and cocked her head to the side like a bird. “Then why the heck aren’t you dancing with him?”

Raphael chuckled. “I can dance with him any time I like. Today both of us are here for you.”

She smirked. “Well, if that’s the case, tell him I want another dance with him.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“And you better stick around, too,” she said. “You’re not half-bad at this when you’re paying attention.”

“I am so sorry about that,” he said again, forcing himself to keep his eyes off of Simon and Rosa.

They got back to Alicante shortly before 6:00 pm and decided to skip dinner in favor of watching a movie at the old stables before curfew.

Magnus flopped across the makeshift hay bale couch with a dramatic groan.

“I think I ate my own weight in candy hearts and pretzel bites.”

Cat sat down in front of him and nudged him none too gently with her butt until he rolled onto his side and shifted back to make room for her.

“It’s your own fault,” she said as she stretched out on her side in front of him. “You didn’t have to keep doubling the stakes at the poker table.”

“How could I resist?” Magnus wailed, throwing one hand up while he braced his head on the other. “Ernie couldn’t bluff to save his life. His eye kept twitching every time he had a bad hand.”

Raphael snorted and dropped onto the thick horse blanket in front of the couch, pulling one knee up.

“Ernie’s eye kept twitching because he has dystonia,” he said blandly.

Magnus gasped. “That’s what it was?” He buried his face against the back of Cat’s neck with a drawn-out groan. 

Simon sat down between Raphael’s legs, settling with his back to Raphael’s chest.

“It’s a good thing they weren’t playing for real money,” he commented under his breath.

Raphael agreed with a wordless hum.

Simon leaned forward to grab the remote. “What are we watching?”

“No rom-coms!” Raphael and Magnus said at the same time.

“Uh-huh,” said Cat, twisting onto her back so she could glower at both of them. “Right. So, Halloween demands scary movies, but heaven forbid we watch something romantic on Valentine’s Day. Did I get that right?”

Simon perked up. “We could watch The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.”

Cat crinkled her brows. “Do I even want to know?”

Simon shrugged and craned his head back over Raphael’s shoulder to grin at her.

“It’s a gangster movie from the ’60s, but it takes place on Valentine’s Day.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “You and your mafia kink.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault my boyfriend’s smoking hot with the mob boss vibes.”

Raphael scowled. “I don’t have mob boss vibes.”

He still couldn’t figure out where Simon and Magnus had gotten the idea. It wasn’t like he ran around in pinstripe suits with a cigar stuck in his mouth and a tommy gun clamped under his arm. Well, except for Halloween.

“Please,” Cat scoffed. “The scowl?”

Magnus nodded. “The hair, too. Not to mention the shoulder thing.” He curled one ring-heavy hand above his own shoulder with an awkward shrug.

Simon nodded along sagely. “Don’t forget the menacing growl and the silver cross around his neck.”

Raphael snagged a handful of Simon’s curls between his fingers and pulled his head back to glare at him askance.

“You gave me that cross.”

Simon shrugged and leaned into his grip with a lazy smile.

“Doesn’t change the fact that it makes you look like a mob boss.”

“I’m not even Italian.”

“Like that matters.”

Raphael shook his head, starting to gently scratch Simon’s scalp out of habit. 

“I still don’t see it.”

“Becky agrees,” Simon insisted. “Oh, and so does Mom.”

Raphael’s eyes widened. His fingers stopped. “No.”

He did not want Elaine Lewis to think of him like that.

“Oh, yeah,” Simon said with an oblivious smile, rubbing his head back and forth against Raphael’s hand. “She brought it up when we were at the restaurant, while you were in the bathroom.”

Raphael’s stomach twisted. He had thought the dinner during parent weekend had gone well.

Elaine had been nothing but polite the entire time, and they had even shared a few laughs. It had almost felt like the way things had been during the short time before she had found out that Raphael and Simon were more than friends.

His fingers twitched in Simon’s hair. “You told her it’s not true, right?”

Simon rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “Of course, she knows it’s not true. She was making fun of me, saying how she would have thought I’d go for someone more like Han Solo rather than the Godfather.”

Raphael furrowed his brows. “She would prefer you to be with a common street criminal over a civilized member of society in charge of an organized enterprise?”

Simon’s mouth twitched. “Are you seriously offended right now?”

Oddly, he did feel a little offended on behalf of his non-existent mob boss persona.

“No.”

“You are!” Simon burst out laughing.

“Shut up.”

Above their heads, Cat and Magnus were cackling like a pair of meanspirited hyenas.

“With friends like you, I don’t need enemies.”

His grumbled complaint only served to make them laugh harder.

The week passed in a blur between classes and his nightly duties at the chapel.

Father Aldertree’s demeanor toward him had changed noticeably since Raphael had returned from winter break. Their casual chats had all but stopped, and the father’s disapproval was palpable every time he saw Simon waiting outside the chapel after Mass to walk Raphael and Cat back to the dorms.

Simon had obviously noticed it, too. His fidgeting went through the roof in the face of Father Aldertree’s icy polite stare. He still showed up every Sunday.

Part of Raphael wanted Simon to stop just so they could avoid the uncomfortable awkward moment. Then he reminded himself of the night Simon had given him the silver cross for his birthday and how strongly Raphael’s insecurities had affected Simon.

He refused to be embarrassed for having someone who cared about him so much that they would walk half a mile out of their way for no other reason than to be able to walk that same half-mile back beside him. 

Maybe he should say something to the father tonight.

Two heavily loaded food trays clattered down on the opposite side of the table, jolting him out of his thoughts. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Cat said, looking up at Magnus as she plopped into her usual seat. “You promised you were done messing around.”

“I know,” Magnus said, sliding into his chair beside her, “but the alternative is going somewhere alone and spending three weeks completely unsupervised.”

Cat gritted her teeth. “You could always come back home with me.” 

“Can you honestly see me staying on an army base for that long and not create some sort of international incident?”

“You’re not that bad.”

“Army boys. Everywhere. Training. Sweating. Playing with their toys.” Magnus waggled his brows with a leer.

Raphael grimaced. “Don’t be crude.”

Cat snarled in frustration. “I still don’t want you going on senior spring break alone.”

Magnus grabbed her arm. “Then come with me!”

“I don’t want to go to Florida. I hate Florida. It’s hot, and humid, and full of old people.”

“Don’t you love me more than you hate Florida?”

Magnus opened his eyes wide and pouted at Cat with the most over-the-top puss-in-boots expression Raphael had ever seen on him.

Cat resolutely turned her head and scowled unblinking across the table.

Another loaded food tray clattered down right beside Raphael’s.

“Why are you scowling at my boyfriend?”

Simon sat down next to him and started tucking into his food.

“I’m not scowling at him,” Cat snapped. “I am resisting this one trying to sucker me into spending three weeks in a muggy swamp full of alligators.” She jabbed a thumb toward Magnus.

“It’s Fort Lauderdale,” Magnus droned. “Hardly a swamp. There might be alligators, but I’m sure the locals can keep them out of our hair.”

Cat exhaled a put-upon sigh and stabbed the food on her plate.

“What if he’s going to be there?”

She jerked her head up and pointed her full fork at a spot somewhere beyond Simon’s shoulder.

While Raphael tried to be casual about turning his head, Simon immediately twisted all the way around in his chair to see who she was talking about.

Alec Lightwood was sharing a dinner table with Lydia Branwell, Jace Herondale, and Clary Fray.

Magnus scoffed. “Alexander Lightwood is hardly the type to indulge in frivolities of this nature.”

Simon turned back with a shrug, but his knee started to bounce under the table.

Raphael pushed his foot around and hooked their ankles, stopping the instinctive motion.

Simon shot him a quick grin before he looked over at Magnus and Cat. “I actually heard them talking about it at archery practice earlier.”

Cat narrowed her eyes. “Did he say he was going?”

Simon shook his head. “Lydia was trying to convince him, but he didn’t sound like he was gonna budge.”

“See?” Magnus said with a facetious smile and a casual flap of his hand. “I told you.”

Cat grumbled under her breath and stabbed her food some more.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll call my dad about it tomorrow.”

Magnus’s smile softened. “You’re the best.”

He pressed his fingers to his lips and blew Cat a kiss, which she caught with a roll of her eyes, before he looked back across the table.

“So, you’ve heard our plans,” he said, picking up his glass. “What are you two doing for spring break?”

Raphael scowled. “Camille sent me a text. She plans on doing three fundraisers, and she wants me there with her.”

He hated the way she treated him like a movie prop, showing him around to everyone to garner sympathy and support. When she didn’t need him for that, just like a prop, she tossed him into a corner and expected him to stay there while she forgot all about him.

The toe of Simon’s sneaker tapped against the inside of his loafer.

“It’s just one more year,” Simon said firmly. “Then you can tell her where to shove it.”

Raphael’s lips curved up in a small smirk.

He didn’t delude himself into thinking Camille would miss him when he was gone, but he hoped it would come as a shock to lose her favorite prop and a large chunk of her portfolio at the same time. He doubted she’d circled the day on the calendar to remind herself.

Until then, he had to put up with her and every slippery, power-tie wearing political animal she wanted to introduce him to.

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “One more year.”

“What about you?” Cat asked, tipping her chin toward Simon.

Simon shrugged. “I’m just going home. I’ll be there for Passover Seder, and my aunt Maude has announced she’s coming, so that’s going to be fun.” He cringed with a grin. “But at least I finally get to hug Bubbe Helen and properly say thank you.”

Raphael ducked his head. He was still somewhat baffled that it had been Simon’s grandmother who had convinced Elaine Lewis to come around. If anything, he would have expected someone from her generation to disagree even more strongly with their relationship.

The thought reminded him of the frail lady he had danced with on Sunday, who had tried to offer him her grandson’s phone number.

Maybe age had less to do with it than he thought.

“Tell her thank you from me, too?”

“Of course.” Simon grinned. “I can’t wait for you to meet her. Maybe this summer you and I can go down to Florida and visit her. She lives in Naples.”

Raphael smiled. “Maybe.”

When he stepped off the shuttle bus in the Sunny Meadow parking lot, Raphael almost ended up ankle deep in a nasty brown puddle. He jumped at the last second and started to zig-zag between the rain-water ponds and creeks that had welled up in the cracked cement. It started to drizzle again before he even reached the awning over the entrance.

Raphael decided then and there that he and Rosa were going to stay inside today. They could play Scrabble, and he would keep her entertained with stories from school and chatting about last week’s Valentine’s Day event.

He signed in at the front-desk and shook off the chill and damp as he headed toward the elevators.

“Wait,” the receptionist’s voice called him back. “You’re Raphael Santiago? Here for Rosa?”

Raphael walked the couple steps back to the counter. “Yeah?”

The receptionist placed the clipboard down and got up from her chair, grabbing a post-it from her monitor.

“Can you wait here for a second?” she asked him with a smile.

“Sure.”

Raphael’s brows furrowed as he watched her disappear in the direction of the nurse’s break room.

He wondered if this was about last week’s event. Maybe they wanted to get Simon’s information or ask Raphael to convince him to volunteer again.

The receptionist returned with Rosa’s nurse beside her. Marie was carrying a white cardboard box.

“Hello, Raphael,” she said, looking down awkwardly at the box in her hands. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. It looked like they needed his help with some paperwork.

“Hi. No problem. How can I help?”

She cringed. “Can you come with me, please?”

Raphael blinked, confused by her odd expression and the uncomfortable look she exchanged with the receptionist.

He followed Marie down the corridor. Beside the common room for visitors was a smaller room. She opened the door marked ‘Private’, flipped on the lights, and motioned Raphael inside.

There was a semi-circle of the same upholstered wooden chairs that lined the walls in the common room. A low coffee table sat in front of them. Large photographs of flowers and baby animals hung on the walls. The horizontal blinds on the windows were drawn.

Marie set the cardboard box down on the table and motioned to one of the chairs.

“Have a seat.”

Raphael sat down, still confused by Marie’s strange behavior.

She was a very straight forward person who didn’t tip-toe around other people. He still remembered the blunt way she had talked to him the first time he had come to visit Rosa back in October.

Marie sat down on the edge of the coffee table and looked him square in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, Raphael, but Rosa died. She passed away in her sleep on Tuesday night.”

Raphael blinked.

He stared at nothing as everything went fuzzy around him. He breathed in and breathed out around the lump in his throat. He flinched at Marie’s hand on his knee.

“She didn’t have a lot of personal things. I thought you might want them?”

He managed to move his head up and down in a nod. He felt numb.

“Her funeral was yesterday,” Marie said quietly. “She actually made arrangements years ago. I just found out.” She shook her head. “The guy from the funeral home wrote down the address and plot number for me. I put it in the box for you.”

“Thank you,” Raphael heard himself say tonelessly.

Rosa was gone. She had died and been buried and he hadn’t even been able to go to her funeral service. Gone without a chance to say goodbye. Just like his family.

Marie’s hand squeezed his knee again.

“Is there someone I can call to come and pick you up?”

Raphael raised his eyes and stared into her kind face, shook his head slowly back and forth.

“Nobody?” she said incredulously. “What about your parents? Too far away? A teacher from your school then, or a friend maybe?”

Raphael’s brows furrowed. Two faces shot through his mind simultaneously, but only one of them could and would drop everything in a heartbeat and come all the way out here just to take him back to school.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pushed it into Marie’s hand.

“Simon Lewis.”

Raphael was still inside the small private room off the common area when Simon arrived to pick him up. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there alone. Marie had left him a while ago.

Simon crouched down in front of him and placed both hands on Raphael’s knees.

“Hey, I’m here.”

Raphael stared at the long pale fingers.

The fingernails on Simon’s right hand were longer than the ones on is left. The skin beside his right middle finger was torn where he’d picked at a hangnail. The fingers twitched on his legs.

“Are you…” Simon trailed off and cleared his throat. “Are you ready to go?”

Raphael nodded.

Simon pulled his hands away and got up. He motioned at the white cardboard box on the coffee table.

“Are we taking this?”

Raphael got out of the chair and nodded again.

Simon grabbed the box and raised it toward the door.

“Go ahead.”

Outside, just beyond the awning at the entrance, a bright yellow car was sitting with the engine idling.

Raphael blinked. “You took a taxi?”

For some reason, he’d thought Simon would take the bus to get here.

Simon shrugged, shifted the box to hold it under one arm, and opened the car door for him.

“Magnus gave me money.”

They settled into the back seat with the box between them. The driver turned around to look through the bullet proof window.

“Where to?”

“Alicante—” Simon started to say.

“Actually,” Raphael cut him off. “Hang on.”

He pulled the lid off the box and tried not to look at Rosa’s personal belongings, searching for one specific thing.

A bright green post-it stuck to the glass of the heavy portrait picture frame, covering the face of Rosa’s brother.

Raphael peeled off the sticky paper and slid the frame back into the box without looking at it. He pressed the note against the glass separating them from the front seat with the writing facing toward the driver.

“How far away is that?”

The driver squinted at the address for a second before he shrugged.

“Not far,” he said, “but it’s in the opposite direction from Alicante Academy.”

“Never mind.”

Raphael sat back and hung his head, staring at the note in his hand. He’d have to go some other day. Maybe tomorrow after church.

“No,” Simon said firmly. “Take us there first.”

The driver nodded. “You got it.” 

The cemetery was large, sprawling across multiple hills. Sandy gravel pathways snaked between the gravestones and mausoleums, dark brown and riddled with puddles from the recent rain. The air smelled like petrichor and wet dirt.

Simon walked quietly beside him, carrying the white cardboard box that Raphael couldn’t even look at. He had saved the number of the cab company on his phone and sent the driver on his way.

They followed a long muddy path until they found the sign that pointed them in the direction of the plot number written on the green post-it.

There was no mound of fresh dirt on the ground, but it was easy to see the scars where large square patches of grass had been placed to cover it. A rectangular monolith hewn from gray granite loomed over the site.

Four names and dates were embossed into the stone in simple white letters. Rosa was at the bottom of the list. The name directly above Rosa’s had obviously been her brother.

Ángel Ortiz. 1937 – 1953.

Raphael sniffed as he realized why Rosa had always referred to him as her angel.

“He was only fifteen.”

Simon put the box down between his feet and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t want to know.”

He must have died not long after his portrait picture had been taken. Two years younger than Simon and Raphael. Three years older than Raphael’s oldest younger brother.

Raphael swallowed and clenched his hands into fists.

“My family has a stone like that,” he said quietly. “With everyone together.”

Their urns were buried under a white marble stone with their names engraved in black. At least, that’s what he’d been told by the estate lawyer with the power-tie. He hadn’t been able to make himself visit Trinity Church while he was in New York over the holidays.

“Everyone except me,” he amended.

Simon made a distressed noise in his throat and shuffled on his feet. He had sucked in his cheeks and was probably chewing them between his teeth to stop himself from blurting out something inappropriate.

“Don’t do that,” Raphael said, reaching up to tap Simon’s jaw with two fingers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Simon blurted. “What happened to them, I mean?” His hands flew out of his pockets and started flapping around. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously, but you can if you do. I’ll listen, and I won’t say a word, I promise.”

Simon snapped his mouth shut and pressed his lips together. His eyes were huge behind his dorky glasses, and he was forcing himself so hard to stand still that his whole body was practically vibrating with it.

Raphael cringed and looked away.

He hadn’t talked about that night with anyone since it had happened. Not even with Lily, and she’d been there for most of it.

The cold, damp air suddenly felt too heavy to breathe. It felt like syrup in his lungs and clogged up his throat.

“I was at a fucking concert.” He clenched his jaw. “Lily really wanted to go. Some punk band at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. I wasn’t going to let her go alone.” He furrowed his brows. “I was counting on the fact that they wouldn’t let us in.”

The guy at the entrance had taken their money, stamped the front and back of their wrists with a bright neon Under 21 stamp, and waved them on in.

Despite the stamp, or maybe because of it, there had been a ton of college guys and some creepy old men sniffing around Lily. Raphael had played the scowling boyfriend all night to keep them at bay.

“Should have gone with my gut,” he grumbled. “All I had to do was open my fucking mouth, and we would have left, and then maybe…”

Maybe, if he’d gone with his gut and asked Lily to go home early, he would have been home in time and noticed that something was off. He would have seen something suspicious, and shouted a warning, and everyone would have run out of the house just in time.

“They said it was a leak in the main gas line under the property.” He swallowed. “Caught a spark from one of the old electric wires.” 

He turned his head and stared at endless green speckled with black, and white, and gray until his vision stopped blurring and the speckles resolved back into grass and headstones and mausoleums.

“They said they didn’t suffer. That it happened quick. That they couldn’t have known because the leak wasn’t in the house so there would have been no weird smell.”

They was the police, and Lily’s dad, and the estate lawyer, and everyone else who just had to put in their two cents while Raphael was trying to forget he was still breathing in and out and that his heart kept beating minute after minute.

“I should have been there. I should’ve--”

“Thank God, you weren’t.”

Raphael’s head whipped around.

Simon sniffed and shoved his fingers under his glasses, wiping at his eyes.

“I know it’s mean, and it’s super selfish, and you’ll be mad at me, but I’m glad you weren’t there. I’m glad you kept your mouth shut and stayed out all night with Lily, because if you hadn’t… If you’d been home, you’d be dead, too, and we’d never have met, and I wouldn’t have you in my life.”

Simon stared at him with glassy puppy-dog eyes and a determined scowl. He’d shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets and squared his shoulders as if he was waiting for Raphael to yell at him.

Raphael was mad. He was pissed off beyond belief because it wasn’t fair. It hurt like hell. It was incredibly selfish, but it was coming from the least selfish person Raphael had ever known, and it came from a place of unconditional love. How in heaven or hell was he supposed to argue with that?

“You promised you wouldn’t say anything,” he managed to croak out.

Simon’s lip wobbled for a moment before he jutted out his chin.

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Of course not.” Raphael rolled his eyes and took a shaky breath.

“I love you.” Simon’s tone was obstinate, daring Raphael to contradict him.

“I know,” Raphael said with a sigh, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“And I’m really sorry about your family,” Simon said more calmly. “I wish I could have met them.”

Raphael laughed involuntarily. “My dad would have hated you.”

Antonio Santiago had never liked chatty people. Simon’s high energy and constant rambling would have driven Raphael’s father insane.

Not to mention that he was fairly certain both his parents would have disapproved of their relationship more than Simon’s mom. They would have taken it about as well as Father Aldertree.

“But my little sister would have adored you, because you’re funny, and kind, and you can sing and play the guitar.”

Simon smirked and bumped their shoulders together. “Can I get that in writing? I want proof that you think I’m funny.”

Raphael chuckled breathlessly. “Never.”

Simon pulled one hand out of his jacket pocket and snapped his fingers with an exaggerated huff of displeasure.

Raphael rolled his eyes again, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from curling into a smile.

“I’m glad you got to meet Rosa,” he admitted, staring at the monolith ahead of them. “Even if she didn’t seem to like you much.”

“Are you kidding?” Simon turned to him with a smile. “She loved me. I mean, yeah, things were a little shaky, at first, but when she realized that her ‘angel’ is pretty much the center of my universe, she came around pretty quick.”

Raphael cringed and shook his head. “You told her that?”

Simon shrugged. “She asked.”

Raphael didn’t know what to say. He remembered the way Rosa had patted Simon’s hand and how the sight had made him stumble over his own feet.

“What did she tell you?” he asked. “When she was patting your hand?”

Simon’s brows furrowed. “The words didn’t make much sense, but I think she just wanted me to promise that I’d take care of you.”

Raphael nodded. He didn’t need to ask if Simon had made the promise. He already knew the answer.

A fat drop of icy water landed right on his head. Raphael cursed under his breath.

The single raindrop was quickly followed by another, and another. They had maybe thirty seconds before the torrential downpour started.

“Fuck!” Simon’s eyes went wide behind his glasses and he scrambled to pick up the cardboard box between his feet. “Run!” 


	29. Spring Break Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am late. These final few chapters are kicking my butt. Why can't these boys just ... Never mind. I don't think there are any warnings needed for this chapter.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are loved and appreciated. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Stay home. Stay safe. Wash your hands. Don't touch your face. Take care of each other.

Alec shoved his keycard into the slot and opened the door as wide as it would go before it hit a wall.

“I still have no idea how you talked me into this,” he grumbled over his shoulder as he lugged his suitcase ahead of him.

Jace lumbered in with his own baggage in tow and closed the door behind him. The wall it had banged into belonged to the bathroom.

“Because you needed it,” he said with a casual shrug, “and the alternative was Martha’s Vineyard with Maryse.”

“Right.” Alec cringed.

The threat of spending three weeks being passed around his mother’s party affiliates as a future candidate for political office had been enough to tip the scales.

When Alec had brought up the idea with Dr. Scott, the man had cautioned him not to get carried away. Otherwise, his therapist had encouraged Alec to spend his last vacation before graduation in a relaxed environment and to use the opportunity to plan for the future without the constant pressure of his mother’s expectations.

In the end, Alec had grudgingly agreed to sign up for Senior Spring Break with Jace, Lydia, and the rest of Alicante’s senior class in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

Their hotel suite was sprawling and airy. It stretched across a full kitchen and an elegantly decorated living area to a large balcony straight ahead. On the left, two sets of French doors with horizontal blinds swung open into two separate bedrooms.

Alec picked the smaller one and dropped his suitcase on the queen-sized bed before he walked back out into the living room.

While Jace dumped the contents of his suitcase all over the California king in the bigger room, Alec opened the plain sliding glass door to the balcony and stepped out.

The enclosed terrace spanned the living room and Jace’s bedroom, where another set of French doors allowed access to it.

Alec leaned over the iron guardrail and let his gaze roam over the view.

The ocean was several hundred feet away, beyond half a dozen smaller concrete buildings, a busy road lined with tall palm trees, and a beach so packed with people you could hardly see the white sand between them.

When Alec took a fortifying breath, it smelled like brine and cooking grease. He dropped his head and closed his eyes in resignation.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered.

Jace’s hand clapped heavily onto his shoulder.

“Come on, Alec. Lighten up. We’re going to have so much fun.”

Alec pulled his face out of his hands to stare at Jace with raised brows. He pointed at the massive crowd on the beach. From the distance, they looked like a writhing mass of multi-colored bugs crawling all over each other.

“That’s your idea of fun?”

Jace laughed. “Are you kidding? It’s going to be great. I can’t wait to see Lydia down there.”

Alec’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jace blinked rapidly. Then he grinned. “The main reason she came out here is to go on the hunt.”

“What?” Alec’s brows crinkled in confusion. “She didn’t say anything to me about it. She’s going to need a local hunting license. I don’t think it’s even—”

Jace’s bark of laughter cut him off.

“For a boyfriend,” Jace clarified. “Lydia is on the prowl for a new guy.”

“Oh.”

Alec blinked in surprise. He wondered why Lydia hadn’t told him. It wasn’t like he would get jealous. It was none of his business.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes as realization struck.

“Yeah,” Jace drawled sarcastically. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a penny drop so slowly.”

“No.” Alec waved him off. “I just figured out why she wouldn’t have told me.”

Jace raised his brows. “Yeah, why’s that?”

Alec sighed. “I put a moratorium on relationship talk between us back in January. I never lifted it.”

Jace wrinkled his nose. “Only you would use the word ‘moratorium’ in casual conversation.” He cocked his head to the side. “Is that why you two were acting all cats and dogs after you got back from the state tournament?”

“Yeah.” Alec averted his gaze.

They had gotten into a huge fight on the night before the tournament. Less than a minute after Simon Lewis had left his hotel room, Alec had hunted down Lydia to confront her about going behind his back.

He had only confided in her about the letter he had written to Magnus because she had more or less pulled it out of him under enhanced interrogation with a pint of ice-cream. He certainly hadn’t told her so she could go and do the Lydia thing.

Lydia was used to taking control and fixing things with brute strength or ruthless negotiation. Unfortunately, some things couldn’t be fixed.

Alec had told her as much. She’d argued it was still better for him to know for certain instead of hanging indefinitely in Limbo. Once their staring contest had stalled out in an impasse, they had agreed in coldly polite terms to stay out of each other’s romantic relationships, current and future, because it was none of their business.

Of course, Alec didn’t plan to share any of this information, because Jace didn’t know about the Magnus letter, and Alec intended to keep it that way.

“She was trying to meddle in my dating life,” he said quickly, “so I told her to butt out. She didn’t take it well.”

Jace’s brows crinkled high on his forehead. “You don’t have a dating life.”

“And I am fine with that,” Alec said resolutely.

Jace crossed his arms over his chest. “Really?”

“Really.” Alec put on his game face, effectively closing the subject.

Jace’s shoulders slumped with an impressive roll of his eyes.

“Fine,” he droned. Then he raised his chin with a glare. “But that’s not a valid excuse to hole yourself up in here for the next three weeks.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed. Sometimes, he hated that Jace knew him so well. He writhed his shoulders, trying to come up with an acceptable excuse.

Jace’s annoyed whine cut him off before he could say anything.

“Come on!” Jace grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him. “This is our last year of school.” He emphasized the point as if it had particular weight.

It didn’t. It was also not entirely accurate.

“Yours maybe,” Alec said, prying Jace’s hands off his arms. “I’m planning on going to college. That’s at least four more years.”

Jace dropped his head with a tortured groan.

“Yeah, well,” he griped, “you always were smarter than me.”

It was Alec’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You are smart, Jace,” he said bluntly, crossing his arms. “You just don’t apply yourself.”

“Why bother?” Jace shrugged. “Most of it is boring and useless. I want to spend my life doing stuff I love, and, unlike most people, I actually get to do that.”

“As a car mechanic?” Alec shook his head. “Imogen is going to have a heart attack.”

Alec had nearly fainted from shock when Jace had shared his future career plans over dinner after winter break.

He couldn’t imagine Imogen Herondale, venerated Headmistress of Alicante Academy and twice recipient of the CAPE Teacher & Administrator Award, would take the news of her precious grandson wanting to be a car mechanic as anything other than a sign of the end times.

Jace snorted.

“She won’t,” he said with conviction, pointing to himself. “Golden baby boy, remember? She’ll be shocked, but once she sees my heart is set on fixing cars and motorcycles for a living, she’ll just buy me my own garage and applaud my entrepreneurial spirit.”

Alec had to admit that Jace might be right. Imogen had scarcely batted a lash when the staggering bill for their two-hour phone conversation had come through at the end of January. Jace’s only justification had been, “Alec needed me”, and it had been enough for her.

“You don’t know how good you have it,” Alec grumbled.

Unlike Imogen, Maryse had been furious and unforgiving. She had pulled the entire four figure amount from Alec’s personal checking account and stopped his allowance, permanently.

“Trust me,” Jace said flippantly as the door behind his mercurial eyes slammed shut. “I do.” His lips curled up in a sarcastic smirk.

“Shit,” Alec blurted, the moment he realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“No, I mean it.” He grabbed Jace by the shirt and hauled him into a hug before he could step back and walk away. “I’m sorry.”

Alec still didn’t know what life with Michael Wayland had been like for Jace, but he knew it hadn’t been good. He knew Jace appreciated Imogen Herondale probably more than anyone else in the world.

Jace returned the embrace with a manly pat to Alec’s back that was just this side of brutal, but he didn’t pull away.

“All right,” he grumbled with a huff. “You know how you can make it up to me?”

Alec cringed. “I have a terrible suspicion.”

The beach was just as terrible as Alec had feared it would be. They had barely been able to find a space to put down their towels in the dense crowd.

Jace made a beeline for the water before his T-shirt hit the ground, leaving Alec to be the responsible one and watch over their stuff. 

On top of the brine and kitchen grease stench from earlier, everyone around him reeked of sunscreen, sweat, and the badly concealed alcoholic drinks in their opaque sports water bottles.

A group of college kids close by were shouting at each other over the din of too many people in the same space. They were clearly drunk.

After about five minutes of this, Alec was ready to scream.

He pulled out his phone, stuffed his headphones in his ears and searched for a good playlist that would drown out the noise. Once he found it, he opened his messaging app and started airing his grievances to his little sister on the other side of the country.

**I hate people. **

**They are loud, drunk, and they stink.**

**How does anyone enjoy this? **

**I just saw a girl puke into someone’s beach bag.**

**People are disgusting. Like a plague.**

Izzy’s response popped up before he could add more to his rant.

**You sound like Agent Smith.**

Alec frowned.

**Who?**

Izzy’s response was a video clip from a movie called The Matrix.

As soon as he tapped on it, his music playlist paused to play the video.

Agent Smith was a man wearing a black suit and dark-tinted sunglasses, blathering on about how humans were a virus.

Alec glanced around himself and typed his response with a scowl.

**He has a point. **

Izzy reacted with a tilted smiley face with teardrops in its eyes.

**How are you really, hermano?**

Alec sighed. The question was more loaded than she probably realized.

They had been texting each other frequently for the past couple of weeks.

After her apology email, it had taken him a while to respond. He hadn’t trusted himself to react appropriately until his first therapy session following winter break.

Dr. Scott had listened patiently while Alec had laid out everything that had happened in Idris, including his failed attempt at a one-night stand with Kieran, his mother’s constant nagging about college, Izzy’s apology letter, and finally his phone call with Jace.

Alec had surprised himself when Dr. Scott had asked him how he felt about his relationship with Jace. The first word that had sprung to his mind had been ‘relieved’.

When Dr. Scott had pushed him to evaluate his feelings more in depth, Alec had had to admit they had changed. He still loved Jace. He always would, but he no longer felt the yearning to be more than they were: best friends closer than most brothers.

In light of that relief, figuring out how to respond to his baby sister had been almost too easy.

Of course, when Dr. Scott had asked about Magnus Bane, things had gotten infinitely more complicated.

Alec rolled his eyes at himself and replied honestly but noncommittally to Izzy’s question.

**Hanging in there. **

He had barely sent the message when a shadow fell over his phone and ice-cold droplets of water sprayed all over him.

Jace was shaking himself like a dog, trying to push the water from his ears.

Alec grunted in disapproval and lobbed a towel over his head.

“Really? You’re worse than the Penhallow’s golden retriever.”

Jace snickered. “So, you really wanna scratch my butt and tell me I’m a good boy?” His face distorted a millisecond later. “Forget I said that.”

“Yeah.” Alec shook his head with a grimace and got up. “I’m going to see if I can scrounge up some coffee or something. Do you want anything?”

Jace’s eyes lit up. “Mango-banana smoothie?”

Alec fought his way through the crowd toward the main strip lined with restaurants and bars. He kept texting back and forth with Izzy while he hunted down a decent looking coffee shop that also offered smoothies and got in line to order.

**The line is so long, you’d think it was the only coffee shop in town.**

Her reply came almost instantly.

**You should try my favorite here. Super quick and delish.**

She kept dropping hints that she wanted him to move to Los Angeles.

Alec had given it some thought, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

Right now, Robert was falling all over himself, trying to be a good parent. He spent a lot of time with Izzy, paid attention to her, and made her feel like she was important.

What if Alec’s presence caused Robert to return to his old ways? The last thing Alec wanted was to give his father an excuse to bury himself back in his work and abandon Izzy all over again, leaving her in Alec’s care.

Alec had failed his baby sister before. He’d screwed up so bad, trying to be everything Izzy needed him to be, it had almost killed them both. He would never risk that happening again.

“Alec Lightwood?”

He didn’t recognize the sing-songy voice, but the second he turned around, he wished he hadn’t.

Kaelie Whitewillow was standing in front of him with her pale arms extended, wiggling her skinny fingers. Her glittery pink claws matched the color of the fake smile on her lips. She had shorn her long blonde waves down to a pixie cut and was wearing a flimsy excuse for a shirt over a bathing suit that revealed more about her personal grooming habits than Alec cared to know.

He slipped his game face on as fast as he could.

“Kaelie,” he said neutrally as he endured being not-quite-kissed on the check.

“So good to see you,” she simpered.

Alec forced out a wordless grunt. He did not share that opinion. He would have preferred spending the rest of his life without ever seeing her again. 

Even if she wasn’t the daughter of the most unscrupulous gossip rag editor in the U.S., she was still the girl Magnus had slept with on the night of the Bane holiday gala.

Kaelie seemed completely unfazed by his non-verbal reaction.

“Listen,” she said, squeezing his arm with one hand while she leaned closer, “I know our worlds usually don’t collide, but my curiosity is killing me.”

Alec stared straight ahead and squared his shoulders, expecting the worst. Questions about Izzy’s rehab, his mother cutting him off financially, or his spectacular failure at the archery tournament had equally unsettling potential. His only solace was that Kaelie couldn’t possibly know about his failed attempt at a vacation one-night stand in Idris.

“Did you and Magnus ever work it out?”

Alec jolted as his gaze snapped to her face. “Work what out?”

“Your tiff at the Bane gala.” Kaelie smirked. She squeezed his arm again and lowered her voice to a confidential murmur. “If it helps, I promise this is strictly off the record.”

Alec wanted nothing more than to remove her hand and get the hell out of this conversation. He glared at the glittery pink nails on his arm. To his surprise, Kaelie took the hint and removed her hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said coldly.

“Oh, come on.” Kaelie snickered. “It was so obvious. The way you kept glaring at each other? I thought for sure you two were going to end up fighting or fucking by the end of the night.”

“That’s ironic coming from you.”

Alec pursed his lips tighter, cursing himself for his second slip up. He had not meant to engage. He should be walking away.

Kaelie’s fine blonde brows crinkled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alec felt something snap behind his eyes. He couldn’t believe she had the audacity to pretend ignorance.

She had certainly been cognizant of her actions when she had pawed at Magnus for the better part of the night, glued herself to his side, and finally all but purred her intentions against the line of his jaw with a sultry voice and bedroom eyes.

_Magnus, can we go now?_

Alec smiled. “You were the one who ended up in bed with him that night, remember?”

Kaelie snickered. “Well, I guess, in a manner of speaking,” she said, shaking her head. “Though, I don’t think either of us enjoyed it as much as we could have.” She winked.

The sharp edge of a knife carved down Alec’s spine at her flippant attitude. Magnus had used the exact same facetious tone when Alec had confronted him at the gala.

Everything inside him went cold.

“Then maybe you two shouldn’t have had sex while you were both too drunk to know what you’re doing.”

“Holy fuck.”

Her change in tone and volume was so abrupt that the people in line around them took an instinctive step back.

Kaelie gasped out a laugh before she snapped her pink lips shut and crossed her arms. Her left cheek bulged where she pushed it out with the tip of her tongue while she stared Alec down with cold, hard eyes.

“For your information,” she said without a single note of sing-song in her tone, “Magnus and I did not have sex that night. However, if we had had sex, drunk or otherwise, it would have been nothing short of mind-blowing and phenomenal.”

She huffed indignantly and braced her hands on her hips, raising her chin to look down the length of her nose at him. 

“Who do you think you are, anyway, to lecture me about this? The Moral Police? It’s not like he was your boyfriend or anything. Last I heard, you were as good as engaged to Lydia Branwell.”

Alec stood pole-axed, incapable of feeling anything but a numb sense of shock. A part of his reality had just been ripped from his hands, turned upside down, and shoved back at him with brutal force.

“Welcome to The Daily Grind,” a chipper voice said from behind him. “May I take your order?”

Alec sucked in a breath and turned around. “Large coffee, black, and a banana-mango smoothie, to go please.” Guilt crawled up under the shock like a trail of fire. He glanced behind him. “Kaelie?”

She raised her brows. “Orange mocha latte with chocolate shavings and whipped cream.”

“Will that be for here or to go?”

Kaelie shifted her stare to the barista. “To go.”

“That’ll be $14.83. You can pick up your order over there.”

Alec paid, accepted the receipt, and watched the barista write Kelly on all three cups. The same name was printed on the top of his paper slip.

He sighed and turned around to face Kaelie.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely, hoping she understood he wasn’t talking about the misspelling of her name.

“For what?” she asked sharply.

He motioned for her to step aside with him so they could have this conversation at least a few steps removed from the rest of the people waiting in line.

She rolled her eyes and flounced ahead, flashing him an unsolicited view of her pale behind.

Alec cringed and fought the urge to offer her his button-down shirt to cover up. He folded his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders.

“For acting like the moral police,” he said with a stiff grimace. “I didn’t mean to…” He stopped himself, knowing he had meant every word. “I was out of line.”

None of this had been her fault. He had been furious with Magnus for having sex with someone else while Alec was tormenting himself over what to do regarding Magnus’s supposed feelings for him.

Kaelie hadn’t known about any of that. She had just been having a good time with a guy who was ostensibly single. Magnus had acted the part without missing a beat.

Their kiss right in front of him, and Magnus’s flippant admission were forever burned into Alec’s memory.

_It took a while to wrangle her._

Except, Magnus hadn’t had sex with Kaelie.

Alec closed his eyes as the word ‘wrangle’ abruptly took on an entirely different meaning. They had both been drunk. Of course, it would have taken a while to wrangle her into and out of the elevator, the back of a cab, another elevator, and finally through the doors of her hotel room.

Kaelie tilted her head and looked at him with a superior smirk. “You know, if you haven’t yet, maybe you should ask yourself why you got so upset over the idea of Magnus and I having sex in the first place.”

Alec forced himself to keep a passive face. “Thanks, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Kaelie smiled as she leaned closer. “I’m happy to give you a hint.”

“Order for Kelly!”

She rolled her eyes and walked away to pick up her drink.

“Thanks for this,” she said, lifting her cup before she added on her way out the door, “And good luck with Magnus! You two would make a hot couple.”

Alec felt his face burn as he stepped up to the counter and picked up his coffee and Jace’s smoothie.

Despite Jace’s vociferous protests, Alec managed to stay in their shared hotel suite for the next two days. He preferred the clean, quiet solitude of an elegantly decorated living room over the chaotic drunken revelry going on down at the beach.

The most difficult part had been avoiding his own thoughts. Until he’d embraced streaming services.

He had had no idea how many fascinating documentaries National Geographic had on their roster or how addicting they could be.

Alec poured himself a freshly brewed cup of coffee, shuffled over to the couch, and settled down to enjoy an all-day marathon about the journey of humankind.

The French doors to the larger bedroom opened, and Jace lumbered out dressed in nothing but the boxer shorts he had slept in. His eyes were squeezed shut, mouth gaping around an enormous yawn, as he scrubbed a hand through his messy bed-hair.

A few months ago, Alec would have been flustered. Now, he just rolled his eyes and kept flicking through the thumbnails, adding things to the watchlist he had started curating over the past couple of days.

Jace shuffled into the kitchen and banged around, helping himself to some coffee.

“Oh, hell no! Not again.”

Alec didn’t bother to look over. He could feel Jace’s nasty glare like an itch under his skin.

“It’s the history of humankind,” he said mildly. “Interesting stuff. You could join me.”

Jace made a strangled noise in his throat. “It’s spring break, Alec. You’re not some geriatric college professor taking a sabbatical. Fuck, my grandma would have more fun than this if she were here.”

Alec shrugged. “This is fun.”

Jace snorted and took a loud, slurping sip from his mug. And another. And another.

Alec knew he was doing it deliberately to vex him with the noise.

“You know you can’t annoy me into going out, right? You’re just going to make me turn up the volume.”

Jace huffed, but he did stop slurping his coffee.

“You can’t hole yourself up today,” he grumbled. “I need you.”

Alec actually turned around to look at him. “What for?”

Jace stared into his mug and scratched at the stubble on his cheek.

“I’m getting a tattoo, and I don’t want to go by myself.”

Alec blinked. “You hate needles.”

Jace ducked his head. “I know.”

He was a big baby about it, too. Alec had seen him pass out from a vaccine shot.

Alec furrowed his brows. “Then why?”

Jace ducked his head even further and hid his face behind his mug.

“Clary designed it.”

“Oh, god.”

Alec rolled his eyes so hard he actually felt the pull on his optic nerve.

He had an immediate horror vision of the gaudy gel pen monstrosity with the cartoon angel wings sprouting from two fat halves of a bubbly heart that he had glimpsed on Jace’s arm when Jace and Clary had first started dating.

“Please don’t tell me you’re getting that tacky heart on your forearm.”

“What?” Jace spluttered into his coffee. “No.” He shuddered. “Here, let me show you.”

He put his mug down on the counter and disappeared into his bedroom.

A minute later, Jace flopped down on the couch next to Alec and dropped a sheet of sketch paper on his lap.

At first glance, it was a fairly accurate sketch of a motorcycle wheel. At closer inspection, the spokes inside the wheel turned out to be pencils and paintbrushes.

It was clearly symbolic of Jace and Clary as a couple. She had blended their respective obsessions into a single image.

“What do you think?”

It was undeniably cheesy and a very bad idea. A tattoo was permanent. More than likely, Clary and Jace’s relationship wasn’t. They’d only been dating for six months. Jace was a senior. Clary was a junior. Jace had never had any interest in art. Alec seriously doubted Clary Fray was a gear-head. Did the two even have anything in common?

As Jace’s best friend, it was Alec’s duty to stop him from making stupid mistakes like this. He took a deep breath and glanced up from the sketch.

Jace’s expression was a mix of hope and trepidation. His brows were raised high, crinkling his forehead over a wide-eyed, anxious look. His grin was painfully wide, putting dimples on his unshaven cheeks.

Alec pursed his lips and settled on a noncommittal grunt.

Jace’s face fell.

Alec sighed and wrangled out the only tacit approval he could manage.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.”

The tattoo parlor wasn’t too far from the beach, but far enough that the neighborhood wasn’t swarming with people. The shop was small with a stylized graffiti sign above the door and displays of tattoo designs and body jewelry in the window.

The tile floor was clean, and the sales front was separated from the working area with a heavy curtain for privacy. Alec caught a glimpse of a sterile cart and other equipment he would expect to see at a dentist office.

Jace stepped up to the counter with a smile. His usual charm was visibly dampened by his acute fear of needles.

“Hey,” he said to the girl behind the counter. “I’m Jace. I made an appointment over the phone?”

“Right-o,” drawled the girl with a noticeable Australian accent, “you’re a bit early, so Will’s still finishing up with someone else. Did you bring your own design?”

“Yeah, it’s, um…”

Alec watched Jace pat himself down nervously for a few seconds before he took pity on him.

“Left side pocket on your cargos,” he said, ducking his head while he fought his grin.

“Right.” Jace flashed him a smile over his shoulder before he pulled out the paper and handed it to the girl.

“Neat-o,” she commented, looking at the sketch. “You got a good eye for proportions.”

Jace beamed. “My girlfriend drew it. She’s an artist. Her name’s Clary.”

Alec didn’t bother to hide his chuckle this time. He’d never seen Jace act like a dork before. It was hilarious.

The girl’s dark brown eyes shifted from Jace to Alec.

“Your mate gonna go in with you?”

“Yes,” Jace answered immediately.

Alec smirked. “He might pass out if I don’t.”

The girl raised her pierced brows at Jace. “Is he takin’ the Mick? ‘Cause if not, we can put you on a table instead of a chair. That usually helps.”

Jace ducked his head and mumbled something under his breath.

“No worries, mate.” The girl shrugged. “We’ll take care of you.”

The girl disappeared behind the curtain, leaving Jace and Alec alone out front.

Alec stepped up to Jace and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly.

Jace looked a little queasy, but he nodded resolutely.

While they waited for the tattoo artist, Alec passed the time looking at the designs on the walls. There were a lot of tribal motifs and examples of calligraphy in different writing systems. A whole section was devoted to video games, movies, and TV shows, while another one was dedicated to animals and nature.

Alec found himself fascinated by the more elaborate designs. Between sprawling landscapes and growling predators, one particular image caught his eye.

It was a slender bird with a thick, pointed beak, and a long, diamond-shaped tail. Its short wings fanned out behind it, while its reedy claws extended forward, grasping the stem of a large, star-shaped flower.

The bird was mostly black, but there was an elegant white crescent on its back, and the long tail feathers and secondary wing feathers shimmered in a vibrant blue. Its one visible eye glowed golden-orange around a hard, black pupil.

The piercing stare went right through him. It reminded him of deep brown eyes, gleaming as cold as frozen earth.

He had really screwed things up with Magnus.

Dr. Scott had warned Alec so many times about his tendency to assume the worst based on incomplete information. 

His run-in with Kaelie the other day had hammered the point home.

Alec’s stomach twisted as he thought about the way Magnus must have felt when Alec had coldly rebuked him for sleeping with Kaelie and walked away as if it had meant nothing.

Hindsight was like looking up from the bottom of a pit. Nothing was clearer than the light at the unreachable top.

“You don’t like it?”

The mellow voice jolted Alec out of his thoughts.

A slim, pale man with pitch black hair, an angular face, and dark, gently curved eyes had stepped up beside him. He was pointing at the design with the bird.

“No,” Alec said quickly, “It’s gorgeous. I was thinking about something else.”

The man smiled. “Thank you for the compliment.” 

Alec tilted his head. “You designed this?”

The artist nodded. “For a friend, to memorialize a whirl-wind romance. He never ended up using it.”

Alec cringed. He pushed aside the thought of Jace’s tattoo and looked back at the beautiful animal.

“What kind of bird is it?”

“Oh, it’s a magpie.” The artist smiled.

Alec barked out an involuntary laugh. “Of course, it is.”

An insane idea crossed his mind. He couldn’t believe he was even considering it. Then again, after all the pain he had caused, maybe a permanent reminder was warranted.

Before the artist could walk away, Alec took a deep breath and asked the question.

“How much would you charge to design one for me based on this?” 

Five hours later, Alec and Jace were back in their hotel suite, sprawled out next to each other on the couch, watching a documentary about the Antarctic.

Jace whooped as a penguin slipped away under the nose of a leopard seal. Then he rolled his head on the backrest and stared at Alec with crinkled brows.

“I still can’t believe it, and I watched it happen.”

Alec pretended Jace was talking about the documentary.

“Some penguins just get lucky.”

“You shaved your chest!” Jace said, loudly. “And then you got a big-ass tattoo.”

Alec ducked his head and kept his eyes on the screen where the seal was going after another penguin.

“It’s not that big.”

Jace huffed. “It’s twice the size of mine.”

Alec shrugged gingerly with his right shoulder. He hadn’t meant for it to be that big, but the artist, Zach, had explained that it needed to be a certain size to ensure it wouldn’t turn into a smudgy blob over time.

Getting it had hurt, and not in a good way. Four hours of deep-tissue needle stings were definitely not on Alec’s kink list. On the other hand, it did come with unexpected perks.

He smirked. “It’s a valid excuse to hole up in here for the next three weeks.”

After he had finished, Zach had explained in detail all the precautions that Alec should take over the next few weeks until the tattoo had healed. At the top of the list had been to avoid sunlight and swimming.

Jace scowled. “Yeah, I don’t buy it. That’s not why you got it.”

He turned sideways on the couch and stared at Alec with narrowed eyes and twisted lips.

Alec pretended he didn’t notice and kept his head resolutely facing the TV screen.

Jace sniffed. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope.”

Jace slumped back into the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. He winced when the move jarred his thickly bandaged left bicep.

Alec snickered under his breath, ignoring the twinge in his equally bandaged chest.

Jace grumbled. “We’re still going out tonight.”

Alec scowled. “I don’t think so.”

“Yep,” Jace insisted. “There’s a pool party tonight, and I’m going.”

Alec raised his left brow. “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

Jace grinned victoriously. “You promised Clary to keep an eye on me, remember?”

Alec groaned.

The pool party was at someone’s beach house. Thanks to the enormous glass windows, Alec knew the modern villa was packed with party-goers on all three levels long before they made it to the wide-open front door.

He felt an overwhelming urge to immediately turn around and head back to the hotel.

Jace’s hand on his shoulder prevented him from doing just that.

Alec stuck out like a handful of sore thumbs in his black jeans and silver-gray dress shirt. Everyone else was either still in their bathing suits or dressed in casual beach attire.

Jace, of course, fit right in with his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts.

“I’ll go get us some drinks,” he announced with a clap to Alec’s shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

Alec closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide between following Jace and actually breaking a promise for the first time in his life.

He gritted his teeth and plowed his way through the crowd with his game face on and his shoulders set.

He found the kitchen, complete with a noisy group of gossip girls, and several couples making out all over the counters and around the large island. No Jace.

Alec escaped through the sliding glass doors into the backyard, counting on the fact that there would be a bar near the pool. Hopefully, he would find Jace there.

The same loud bump-and-grind music that boomed through the house was blaring through a set of outdoor speakers mounted to the ceiling of the covered patio.

The large in-ground pool was full of people squealing and splashing around, so Alec gave it a wide berth.

Aside from the lighted pool, the backyard was sparsely illuminated by a few outdoor spotlights and the bright orange glow from inside the house spilling out through the panoramic windows. 

People were milling around, talking and dancing, or making out on the patio furniture as if they had forgotten the concept of public decency.

When Alec didn’t spot Jace in the crowd, he pulled out his phone and moved to a quiet corner under a set of stairs connected to the second floor.

He sent a quick text to let Jace know where to find him, looked up from his phone, and froze.

The last person he wanted to run into was dancing less than thirty feet away from him, oblivious to his presence.

His undercut was styled in an artful mess, a few of the long black strands dyed bright red. A silver cuff gleamed along the curve of his left ear. He was dressed for the occasion in jungle-print board shorts and a skin-tight red shirt with short mesh sleeves.

Less than a week of Florida sun had given him a deep tan that Alec wanted to taste on his tongue a split-second before he wanted to slap himself for the stupid thought.

_Screw my life._

He had been avoiding Magnus for three months.

Once Alec had told Dr. Scott about the letter and Magnus’s decision not to respond, his therapist had encouraged Alec to distance himself and move on.

Their paths had never crossed before that fateful party at the beginning of the school year. It had taken very little to go back to staying completely out of each other’s way. 

Somewhere along the line, Alec had managed to convince himself he was over it. That he didn’t need closure. That it didn’t matter if they never saw each other again.

He had Lydia, and Jace, and Izzy. He had enough to worry about with figuring out a plan for his future that didn’t involve politics or his mother. He didn’t need to get involved with anyone for the time being.

Eventually, even his subconscious had gotten on board and had stopped tormenting him with sleepless nights and wet dreams about Magnus.

Alec had been fine.

Magnus turned his head to the beat of the music, offering another glimpse at his face. At some point in the past three months, he’d grown a goatee.

Alec imagined the scrape of coarse hair added to the firm pressure of soft, sticky lips. The slick slide of Magnus’s tongue coaxing his lips to part. The taste of spearmint and sour candy bursting in his mouth.

_No. Really. Screw my life._

Magnus was still dancing, oblivious to his surroundings. He was mashed between a tiny girl in front of him and a tall guy at his back.

Alec didn’t recognize the other dancers. He was relieved the girl wasn’t Catarina Loss. He wondered if either of them would get in his way if he tried to talk to Magnus.

_What would I even say?_

His feet were moving on their own accord. Apparently, his body had made up his mind for him.

Before Alec had taken two steps, the guy dancing with Magnus muttered something into Magnus’s ear and walked away.

When he stepped up behind him, Alec brushed one hand down Magnus’s arm to get his attention. He expected him to turn around.

Instead, Magnus wrapped Alec’s arm around him, shimmied his hips in time to the music, and dropped his head back on Alec’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

“That was quick. Changed your mind?”

Alec made a strangled noise, trying to find words. Any words.

The girl in front of Magnus giggled, but she didn’t say a damn thing to warn Magnus that his dance partner had changed.

Alec licked his dry lips.

“Magnus,” he croaked.

Magnus hummed low in his throat. He turned around in Alec’s embrace, slipped his arms around Alec’s neck, and kissed him without ever opening his eyes.

Alec squeezed his eyes shut at the familiar sensation of soft, warm lips heightened by the tickle of coarse hair against his chin. Warm fingers cradled his jaw as if it were fragile.

He grabbed Magnus by the hips, intending to push him away. Opened his mouth to warn him.

Magnus wiggled closer and slipped his tongue between Alec’s parted lips, coaxing him to deepen the kiss. The taste of gummy bears and mint burst in Alec’s mouth. Magnus exhaled a happy little moan that reverberated through Alec’s chest with a twinge and shot a bolt of desire up his spine.

It was exactly like the first time. Everything a kiss was supposed to be.

A hard push made his chest explode with searing pain. He stumbled back, fighting for breath as his vision blurred.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he wheezed, squinting through tears of pain. 

Magnus still had his hands raised between them. His eyes gleamed cold as frozen earth, and his lips trembled with a furious sneer.

“Fuck you!”

He whirled around and stormed off.

Alec shook his head and went after him.

“Magnus, wait!”

They barreled through the crowd inside the house and out the front door. When Magnus kept going down the sidewalk as if he had somewhere to be ten minutes ago, Alec shouted after him again.

“Will you please stop?”

“Why should I?” Magnus kept walking briskly.

Alec threw his hands up in despair. “Because I’m trying to apologize!”

Magnus stopped. He turned around on his heel and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What makes you think I give a shit?”

Alec flinched. He knew he didn’t have the right to expect Magnus to listen. After everything that had happened between them, including the blunder with the kiss just now, Magnus really had no good incentive to hear him out. 

“I understand if you don’t,” he said, “but I have to try?”

Magnus rolled his eyes with a huff and glared up into the night sky. He didn’t say anything, but at least he had stopped walking away.

Alec floundered for words. He hadn’t prepared for this.

“I wrote you a letter,” he said, trying desperately to remember the words he had put on paper, carefully edited a hundred million times over the course of several days while he had still been in Idris.

Magnus’s glare didn’t soften one iota when it shifted from the sky to Alec’s face.

“I burned it.”

Alec couldn’t tell if it was a lie. He knew Simon Lewis had the letter back in January, but three months had passed since then. Maybe Magnus had taken it back and burned it without ever reading it.

“That’s okay,” he said lamely.

Magnus snorted and shook his head. He looked back at Alec with eyes still as cold as frozen earth and an expression that made it clear he wasn’t willing to wait forever.

Alec opened his mouth, scrambling for any shred of the apologies and explanations he had put into his letter.

All he could think of were the million little moments where they’d gone wrong instead of right until everything had finally crashed down around their ears on the Saturday before winter break.

_We’re done. _

You’re _breaking up with _me_? _

Alec had been incredulous. He’d been convinced that Magnus had slept with Kaelie, and that he had agonized for no reason over hurting Magnus’s feelings, let alone pondering the risk of opening himself up to them.

_We don’t have a relationship. You come to me once a week to get hurt and get off. That’s it._

It had felt like a slap in the face. Alec had been so shocked he hadn’t even been able to formulate a complete sentence. He had wanted to tell Magnus it wasn’t fair to act like Alec was the bad guy when Magnus had been the one who had offered the deal and set its terms.

Magnus had steamrolled him, leaving him floundering in a rapid flow of questions and accusations.

_What’s my favorite color? My favorite type of food? What accessory would I not be caught dead wearing? Who’s my best friend?_

Before Alec had even had the chance to grasp what was happening, it had been over.

_What? Magnus, why—_

_Because I’m in love with you, you inconsiderate asshole!_

Magnus had barreled past him and walked away.

Now he was standing in front of Alec with the same stone-cold expression, his arms crossed and his chin raised, waiting for Alec to say the right thing, ready to storm off all over again.

Except, Alec had no idea what the right thing to say was. 

He laughed shakily.

Magnus blinked. His mouth dropped open.

“Forget it.”

He turned around and walked away. 

Alec shook his head, sucked in a breath, and said the first thing that came to his mind, regardless of how stupid and pointless it was.

“Blue!” He shouted at Magnus’s swiftly retreating back. “Your favorite color is blue!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the big mood songs that got me through that scene at the end of this chapter was Cold Play - Fix You.


	30. Spring Break Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even. This chapter kicked my ever-loving... I hope it won't disappoint. Making up is hard and I swear there were moments the boys were being obstinate just to mess with me. But here it is. No warnings, just ... 
> 
> Let me know what you think. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
> ###### 

Magnus stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, tilted his head back, and blinked furiously up at the night sky. Out of all the things Alexander Lightwood could have yelled after him, he would have never expected that.

_How the fuck does he even know?_

“At least, I think it is.” Alec lowered his voice as the sound of his footsteps came closer. “I’m just guessing, actually, but there was four times more blue stuff in your closet than any other color.”

Magnus dropped his head and shook it slowly back and forth. He was furious with his heart for beating faster and completely livid at the excited flutter in his stomach.

He didn’t want to remember, but his brain obstinately recalled the day Alec had broken into his room and organized the fuck out of his closet.

_Would you believe me if I said it was an accident? _

_You accidentally made a clean spot, and then you couldn’t stop?_

Magnus had thought of that day as the beginning of their relationship, before it had twisted into a destructive deal less than a week later.

Alec had caught up with him. He was still talking.

“And just about the only accessory I didn’t find in that mess were fanny packs.”

Magnus bit down on the inside of his cheeks. He refused to smile. This wasn’t funny. This was the polar opposite of funny.

Alec sighed. “And I have no idea what your favorite food is, but if you’re willing to tell me, I’d like to take you out for dinner sometime.”

Magnus’s heart leapt so violently he almost pulled his hands up to catch it. His mouth opened, but his brain caught up just in time and stopped him from jumping at the offer.

He turned around and bestowed Alec with the most indifferent stare he could muster under the circumstances.

“Why?”

Alec’s expression was more unguarded than he’d ever seen it. His brows were furrowed deeply over his nose and his lips were twisted with a pained grimace.

“Because we really screwed things up, and I want a chance to make it right.”

“We?” Magnus raised his brows.

Alec averted his gaze. He pursed his lips for a moment before he looked back up with a determined scowl.

“If I’d known how you really felt...” He trailed off with a cringe before he spread his hands in front of him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Magnus snapped before he could clamp his lips shut around it.

“I know,” Alec said, “and I’m so sorry for that.”

It was written all over his handsome face, and he sounded truly contrite, and it was killing Magnus because he had no idea what it meant. Why was Alec doing this? Why now, after all this time?

“I don’t need a pity date, and I don’t want it either.”

“That’s not what this is,” Alec said firmly. “I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

_Why the fuck am I still here? Walk away, Magnus. Right now. Turn around and walk away._

“I want to see if…” Alec trailed off again. “I want to try. For real. No more deals. I want to stop being afraid and give this a chance.” 

“Oh, you bastard!” Magnus pushed him square in the chest. “I don’t need you using my own words against me.”

He was surprised Alec even remembered what he had said all these months ago when they had talked in the locker room before FF.

Alec had doubled over with a gasp of pain and was squinting up at him through wet lashes.

“You have to stop doing that,” he rasped.

“I didn’t hit you that hard,” Magnus scoffed.

He was tempted to add a biting remark about Alec’s newly-discovered aversion to pain. The only reason he didn’t was because it hurt just to think about their twisted deal.

Alec gritted his teeth and pulled himself up straight. Surprisingly, he still hadn’t retreated behind the unreadable stone mask that had used to drive Magnus insane.

“I’m really sorry,” he said sincerely, “about all of it. Even if you didn’t…” He cut himself off with a pained grimace. “Even if it had just been casual for you, it wasn’t right. I was in a bad place, trying to get out of my head, and it was messed up.”

Magnus pursed his lips. ‘In a bad place’ was putting it mildly. Alec had clearly needed professional help, and Magnus had been willing to do pretty much anything to make it happen. Never mind that he’d royally screwed himself over in the process.

“So much for safe, sane, and consensual, right?” he said bitterly.

Nothing they had done had been safe or sane, even if it had been consensual the entire time. With all the precautions Magnus had taken, he had completely failed to do the most basic thing that Daddy had cautioned them about.

_Trust is a two-way street. You have to use your safe words and be honest._

Alec groaned. “Shit, Magnus, I’m sorry. I never should have said that.” He gritted his teeth. “I was so angry when I thought you’d slept with Kaelie.”

Magnus opened his mouth to correct him, but Alec held up one hand.

“I know you didn’t. She told me. It doesn’t matter. I never should have said it.”

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest. Hearing those words had hurt like hell. It had hurt badly enough to finally get him to snap out of it and break things off with Alec.

Alec, who was looking at him now like he was ready to drop down on his knees at a single word. 

Magnus would be lying if he said he didn’t want that. Part of him ached to see Alexander Lightwood on his knees, begging for him. To know that the aloof bastard wanted him as badly as Magnus had always wanted him.

Fuck, he could really use a drink right about now. Three months sober. He hadn’t even had one drop all night at the party, sticking to energy drinks and straight up mint water instead of mojitos.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he did it again.

Alec dropped his head. “I understand if it’s a no.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Magnus snapped his mouth shut, feeling like a goddamn desperate fool. Clearly, he still had no pride or shame, and very little self-control when it came to Alexander Lightwood.

He was already fighting back images of the two of them on a real, actual date. Having dinner at a restaurant, taking a walk along the beach, sharing a kiss.

Magnus slammed the brakes on that thought, made a snap decision, and held his hand out.

“Give me your phone.”

Alec looked confused, but he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, handing it over without a moment of hesitation.

Magnus was surprised it wasn’t password protected.

“If you can get to me through this number,” he said, typing in the ten digits of the only phone number he knew by heart, “I’ll let you take me out on a date.”

He cringed. He had meant to say dinner. He really had no control over himself when it came to Alec.

Growling at himself, he pushed the phone back at Alec’s chest, noticing Alec’s exaggerated flinch.

Magnus shook it off and walked away as briskly as he could without breaking into a run. He pulled his own phone out of his board shorts and hit number one on his speed-dial.

“Please, pick up. Pick up. Pick up.”

The line clicked and the sweetest voice in the universe answered in an amused drawl.

“Couldn’t make it the whole night without me?” 

Magnus was too flustered to joke. He couldn’t even hide the urgency from his tone.

“Are you back at the hotel yet?”

“Yeah, I got back half an hour ago. Magpie, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there,” he said quickly. “Whatever you do in the meantime, do not answer your phone.” 

He hung up and went straight for the ride share app.

Cat opened the door to her hotel room with her fiercest General Dad scowl and practically yanked Magnus inside by his shirt.

“Why is Alec Lightwood leaving long, rambling messages on my voicemail?”

Magnus had collected himself enough on his ride to the hotel to at least make an attempt at flippant humor.

“How was your date?”

Cat stared him down. “He was very polite, a perfect gentleman, and mind-numbingly boring. Now, Alec Lightwood. How? What? Why?”

Magnus felt his stomach tie itself into knots as he settled down heavily on the foot of Cat’s bed. He looked up with a grimace.

“I panicked. He asked me out and I needed to stall for time, so I gave him your number and booked it.”

Cat narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. The rubber duckie pajamas should have made her look ridiculous, but somehow, she was still intimidating as hell.

“So, Alec Lightwood just what? Showed up at your door in the middle of your Black Sails marathon session and asked you out on a date?”

Her expression made it clear that she didn’t believe it.

Magnus knew she was going to be furious with him, but he still had to tell her the truth.

“I wasn’t in my room. There was a party.”

“I knew it!” She stomped her foot and her General Dad glower intensified. “You promised, Magnus. You swore you would stay in and binge.”

“You wouldn’t have gone on the date if I didn’t.”

“And a great loss that would have been!” She blasted before she dropped her chin. “Did you drink?” Her tone was alarmingly calm.

“No,” he said honestly, meeting her glare dead on. “Not a drop.” 

“Good.” She exhaled a long, explosive sigh and rolled her shoulders. “Now, tell me what happened.”

Magnus sighed. “He showed up out of nowhere. I was dancing with another guy, Scooter, Skeeter, something like that.” He waved it off. “Anyway, the guy said he was going to get a drink, but less than a minute later, he’s back up behind me. I thought it was him anyway.”

Cat’s face screwed up in disbelief. “Really?”

Magnus cringed. “Oh, it gets worse.”

He’d been pretending he was mildly buzzed so that nobody would question why he wasn’t drinking.

“I turned around with my eyes closed and kissed him.”

“What?!”

His stomach clenched. It had been so good. The kiss had made him weak in the knees and shivery in all the best ways. Their bodies had fit together perfectly. For one bitter-sweet moment, he had believed he was finally getting over Alexander Lightwood.

Until he had realized that was exactly whom he had been kissing.

“Yeah,” he said, wiping his hands over his face to stifle a groan.

“Well, fuck,” Cat said blandly. “Then what?”

Magnus shrugged. “Then I pushed him away and stormed off.”

Cat’s grimace of disbelief returned. “Really?”

Magnus cringed again. “I told you it gets worse.”

He still couldn’t believe it. He had stormed off like some chick in a TV-drama. He hadn’t even really thought about where he was going, just as long as it was away from Alec.

Cat snorted and cocked her head to the side. “You did the rom-com thing, didn’t you?” 

Magnus rolled his eyes and dove head first into denial. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Cat hummed low in her throat. “Did he come after you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he apologize?”

“Yes.”

“Did he go down on his knees, beg for your forgiveness, and promise to love you right if you only give him one more chance?”

“He didn’t go down on his knees,” Magnus scoffed. Then he chortled involuntarily as he remembered the way Alec had looked at him. “He might have if I’d asked.”

Cat threw her hands up. “You’re hopeless!”

“I know!”

Her scowl hardened as she crossed her arms over her chest again.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” she said matter-of-factly.

His stomach lurched. He knew she meant that, and maybe she was right, but that didn’t change the fact that Magnus still wanted him.

Three months later. Three months sober. Three months out of sight but never really out of mind.

“He says he wants to try. For real.”

“Magpie—”

A rapid-fire knock on the door startled them both.

“Catarina, are you in there? It’s Alec. Lightwood. I need to speak with you.”

Magnus’s eyes went wide as he stared up at his best friend who stared back down at him with eyes just as wide.

She gasped out a soundless laugh and turned her wide-eyed stare on the door for a moment before she looked back at him.

“He’s got balls,” she said quietly, “I’ll give him that.”

Magnus gaped, shaking his head, at a loss for words. His first instinct was to tell her not to open the door. His second instinct was to run and hide. His third instinct was the desperate wish to turn himself invisible so he could watch this terrible disaster play out.

Alec’s fist banged insistently against the door.

“Catarina are you in there?”

She raised her nose toward the door and pulled her shoulders back in the way Magnus knew meant she was about to rain down hell. Then she stormed toward the door.

“What are you doing?” Magnus hissed after her.

At the last split-second, he followed his instinct and dove into the bathroom, closing the door just in time.

As his back slid down along the complementary bathrobe, he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that Alec hadn’t seen him.

Cat’s voice came through from the other side, hard as steel and cold as ice.

“What do you want, Lightwood?”

“I know I’m the last person you want to talk to,” Alec said hurriedly, “but you have to hear me out.”

“I don’t have to do a damn thing,” she snapped.

“Right, sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Alec sounded nervous, his words coming in staggering bursts. “Shit, I don’t even know what I’m doing here. No, I know what I’m doing here. I just don’t know what to say. I haven’t had time—“

“To make up a lie?” Cat interrupted him facetiously.

“To figure out how to convince you.”

“Convince me?”

“Magnus made it clear that I have to go through you to get to him.” Alec sounded queasy, like the words were making him sick. “So just tell me what I have to do, whatever it is.”

Magnus balled his hands into fists to stop himself from getting up and stepping out of his hiding spot.

He hadn’t meant it like that. He had just needed to buy himself some time to think straight. He hadn’t been deliberately trying to manipulate Alec or make him suffer.

Cat was quiet for a long moment. That was never a good sign.

“Nothing,” she said bluntly. “You and Magnus are done. It’s over. You never cared about him in the first place, so you can stop acting like you’re hung up on him now.”

“Look,” Alec said in a shaky voice, “I realize our relationship—“

Cat cut him off with a dissonant laugh. “You didn’t have a relationship. What you had was a twisted carousel going round and round between “Fuck me” and “Fuck you”.”

Magnus winced at the vulgar description. He wished it wasn’t so accurate.

“I’m trying to change that,” Alec said insistently.

“You just want your booty-call back.”

“That’s not true!”

Magnus felt his heart stutter in his chest. Alec had shouted his protest before Cat had even fully finished her sentence. It was the first time he had raised his voice throughout the entire conversation.

“Yeah, right.” Cat snorted.

Magnus could vividly imagine the scowl on her face and the deadly glare she was aiming up at Alec. She may have been a solid foot shorter than him, but Magnus had no doubt Alec was withering under her stare.

“I swear to you that is not what this is.”

Then again, maybe he wasn’t. Magnus wanted desperately to see the look on Alec’s face right now.

“All I want is a chance to make things right.” Alec’s voice was firm. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I do care about him, and I want to get to know him. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes?”

“Anything,” he said with conviction.

Cat was quiet for so long, Magnus almost gave in and burst out of the bathroom to see what was happening on the other side of the door.

“I’ll text you my response tomorrow.”

The sun shone brightly the next day, like most days on the southern tip of Florida, and the air smelled like ocean breeze and comfort food. Alec and Magnus were strolling side by side down the touristy part of Las Olas Boulevard, the main shopping and restaurant strip of Fort Lauderdale, eating ice cream.

Cat was twenty feet behind them, slurping on a smoothie while she watched over them like a hawk.

Magnus still couldn’t wrap his head around the surreal ridiculousness of it all.

It had been Simon’s idea, of course.

After Alec had left, Magnus had stayed the night with Cat. This morning, they had gotten on a video chat with Raphael in Connecticut and Simon in New York to discuss the newest development in the Magnus and Alec situation.

Magnus wanted to give Alec another chance. He believed that Alec was serious about wanting to get to know him, but he didn’t want to risk falling back into bad habits.

Simon had offered the solution with a delighted grin and an inordinate amount of smugness. Unsurprisingly, it had circled back around to his Raphael-induced obsession with mafia movies, specifically the first movie of the Godfather trilogy.

Alec was welcome to court Magnus – Simon’s exact words – as long as he was willing to let them be chaperoned at all times.

Cat had texted the ultimatum to Alec verbatim.

Magnus’s eyes had nearly popped out when Alec had accepted the terms instantaneously with a simple ‘Absolutely. Thank you.’.

A few minutes later, Alec had followed up with an invitation to go out for ice cream in the afternoon. He had sent it as a group text to Magnus and Cat.

She had laughed like a hyena.

Magnus snorted at the memory and threw a quick glance over his shoulder.

Cat grinned around the bright red straw of her smoothie and twiddled her fingers at him in a cheeky wave. 

Magnus turned his eyes forward again, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“This is officially the weirdest date I’ve ever been on.”

It was not at all what he had imagined his first date with Alec would be like.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alec said with a shrug, digging his spoon into the goopy mess of his chocolate-raspberry ice cream. “I’ve had weirder. Lydia and I once had a date at a county fair somewhere in Backwater, Virginia. Her dad was trying to drum up rural votes, so we had to participate in some of the contests.”

A bolt of jealousy went through Magnus at the mention of Lydia Branwell. Part of him wanted to protest that she didn’t count, but, as much as he hated it, she had been Alec’s girlfriend for three years until Alec had finally been able to admit he was gay.

Magnus shoved the unpleasant thought aside and focused on the important thing: Alexander Lightwood making a fool of himself, trying to fit in with the local yokels.

“What kind of contests?” he asked, hoping for something truly embarrassing.

“Pie eating. Axe throwing. Pig Catching.” Alec smirked.

“Pig catching?”

Magnus barely managed to get the words out before he had to purse his lips to keep from laughing.

“Yep.” Alec nodded, looking utterly serious.

Magnus narrowed his eyes, suddenly suspicious that he was being duped.

“I can’t quite imagine the prim and proper Alexander Lightwood rolling around in the mud with a dirty pig.”

Then again, Alec had been plenty willing to roll around in the proverbial dirt with him.

Magnus quickly shoveled a huge bite of vanilla ice cream into his mouth to cool down the wayward thought with a much needed sting of brain freeze.

Luckily, Alec seemed oblivious.

“Oh, no,” he said. “Not me.”

Magnus’s brows furrowed until he remembered that Alec hadn’t been at the county fair by himself.

“No,” he said, refusing to believe it was true. “Lydia?”

Alec stuck a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, holding the spoon between his lips for a moment as if he was contemplating whether to confirm or deny the insinuation. Finally, he shrugged.

“She has a strong competitive spirit. Someone told her she couldn’t do it.”

Magnus’s mouth dropped open as he envisioned Lydia Branwell chasing across a muddy field after a tiny, greasy pig.

“Did she catch it?”

“She still has the ribbon and a picture of her holding the piglet. But you don’t know that.”

Alec’s cheeky grin made something flip over and play dead in his stomach. Magnus smiled like a brainless idiot.

He shook himself out of it and stuck another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

“What about you?”

Alec sighed woefully. “I came in at a lousy 5th place out of 6 in the pie eating contest.”

“Not a fan of pie?” Magnus raised his brows.

He suspected Alec had insisted on using proper utensils while everyone else was just stuffing their faces straight from the pie dish.

“I’m more of a hot dog kind of guy.” Alec shrugged nonchalantly. Then his eyes widened comically as his unwitting double entendre caught up with him. “Oh, god.”

Magnus doubled over laughing.

The invitation for their second date came that same night. While Magnus and Cat were having dinner at the hotel, Alec texted both of them, suggesting they go to the movies.

“He’s not wasting any time, is he?” Cat commented lightly.

“I guess not.” Magnus couldn’t suppress his smile. “Is that a problem?”

“As long as he doesn’t make us go see some stupid horror movie.”

Magnus pouted. “I like horror movies.”

Cat narrowed her eyes. “Choose wisely.”

“Oh, fine.”

He texted Alec the stipulation for his choice of movie.

They ended up watching some mind-numbingly boring Swedish art house film with English subtitles, sitting in the middle of an empty theater with Cat throwing popcorn from her seat two rows behind them.

This would be the last time Alec got to pick the movie. At least, for as long as they were restricted to chaperoned dates.

Magnus did his best not to fantasize about all the things they could have gotten up to during a 2-hour subtitled snorefest in an empty theater.

Their third date was a trip to a carnival up in Pompano Beach. Magnus ate his body-weight in snacks and taught Alec the hard way that his ex-girlfriend wasn’t the only one with a strong competitive spirit.

They got stuck at the ring toss booth for nearly an hour until Magnus finally won the rainbow unicorn plushy he’d set his eyes on.

On the flipside, Magnus spent thirty minutes watching Alec conquer the balloon pop game over a stuffed monkey toy with a face and hands made from hard silicone. It could suck on its thumb or stick its paws together to clamp its arms around a pole.

“You don’t understand,” Alec explained. “Izzy loves these, and they are almost impossible to find anymore.”

Cat hovered at the edges of their peripheral vision the whole time, rolling her eyes at them.

The next day, Magnus was debating what to do over breakfast. So far, it had been Alec who had extended the invitation to every date they had gone on. It was beginning to feel a bit one sided.

Under pressure to make a move before Alec beat him to it, he quickly texted an invitation to go boogie boarding down at the beach.

Cat wasn’t impressed. “You’re just going to ogle each other the whole time, and I’ll be stuck twenty feet away pretending I don’t notice you eye-fucking.”

Magnus gasped in outrage and kicked her under the table. “We’re not that bad. We haven’t even kissed.”

It was true. Three dates and they hadn’t so much as held hands, let alone shared a kiss. The closest they had gotten was bumping shoulders while they walked side-by-side.

He blamed it on having Cat’s watchful eyes constantly hovering in their peripheral vision. It would be too weird.

Still, Magnus was ready to jump out of his skin with frustration. It felt like he was forced to starve with his nose an inch away from his favorite food. He was used to being physically affectionate with his dates.

Though, to be truthful, most of them hadn’t really been dates so much as hook-ups. Quick intimacy, followed by even quicker separation. Every time he had woken up alone to find his partner had already sneaked away had felt like a punch to the gut.

The cheery beep of his phone pulled Magnus out of his morose train of thought.

**Sorry, I can’t.**

Magnus felt his heart sink as he looked at the message. Was Alec already getting tired of him?

His phone beeped again.

**I’ll go anywhere you want, except in the water. **

Magnus frowned, perplexed by the message. He looked up at Cat who was staring back at him with an equally puzzled expression.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe he can’t swim?”

Magnus snorted. “His family owns a yacht and spends summers in the Hamptons. He can swim.”

Cat shrugged. “Maybe he’s afraid he won’t be able to control himself if he sees you half-naked and wet?” 

Magnus kicked her again, but he belatedly realized she had a point. Maybe taking off their clothes around each other wasn’t such a good idea right now. Getting an eye-full of Alec half-naked and wet definitely wasn’t going to help his starvation issue.

He pulled up the browser on his phone and looked for date ideas in the local area, hitting on a winner almost right away. He texted his suggestion to their little group.

**How do you feel about go karts?**

Cat looked up from her phone with a grin and a gleam in her eyes. “Hell, yeah.”

The go kart track was inside a huge industrial building accompanied by a big arcade and a food court. Between the high-pitched snarling of the engines, the cacophonous beeping and clanging of the games, and the bustling crowd of people, the noise-level in the place was so extreme, Magnus could barely hear himself think. He loved it.

Alec didn’t seem to enjoy it all that much. He kept shooting tight-lipped scowls at the children that screamed by them, especially the ones that kept colliding with him in their haste to get past.

“You’d think this was the only arcade in town,” he growled, scowling after yet another pair of wild boys.

Magnus snickered as he watched them go, chasing each other to one of the popular arcade games.

“You don’t like children?”

“No, I just…”Alec trailed off and grabbed Magnus by the hips, shifting behind him to evade another barrage of kids screaming past them. “Don’t like being outnumbered by them,” he grumbled over Magnus’s shoulder.

Magnus froze and stared straight ahead. He tried to focus on the screaming children and the clanging machines. He failed miserably.

He could feel every individual finger of Alec’s hands burning through the denim of his jeans. They hadn’t been this close since they had kissed at the party three days ago. The mouthwatering smell of Alec’s cologne surrounded him as the heat of Alec’s body soaked into his back. 

Magnus swallowed hard and held his breath.

_Step away. Just one step. Maybe three, just to be safe. _

His body refused to listen. Hopefully, Alec would put him out of his misery and step out from behind him before he passed out from holding his breath.

_Why’s he not moving?_

“Alec?”

Alec’s fingers flexed, but he still didn’t move an inch from where he was, standing right behind him, so close Magnus could feel Alec’s breath brush against his temple when he said, “Hm?”

Magnus gulped and tried again. He pulled together every last shred of his dignity and reminded himself that they were very much in public, surrounded by children. Young, impressionable children.

“Alexander?”

“Oh, god. Don’t say it like that.”

“Guys!”

Catarina’s harsh bark made them both jerk and sent them scrambling apart. She glared at them with an exasperated shake of her head.

“I can’t believe you,” she said. “You’re not even… Never mind. Come on. If we want to get on the track anytime soon, we have to sign up.”

She forcefully turned both of them around and pushed them forward with one hard palm on each of their backs.

Magnus let all his sexual frustration bleed into his competitive nature. When it was finally their turn to get behind the wheel of three of the half-dozen or so go karts racing around the track, he kept a lead foot on the gas and went for first place with everything in him.

It turned out, he wasn’t the only one.

He had expected Cat to get carried away. She was incapable of resisting a challenge. It didn’t matter that she was only there to chaperone. She was hot on his tail, sticking to his back wheels, trying to overtake him every chance she got.

What he hadn’t expected was Alec nearly knocking him into the safety barricades to take first place.

Alec was ruthless, pushing his kart to top speed, matching him at every turn. The mad gleam in his eyes was a frightening turn-on every time Magnus caught a glimpse when their karts were nose to nose.

In the end, they zoomed through the finish line less than a foot behind Cat, too close to call who was in second between them.

“I want a rematch,” Alec snarled with one large hand clamped tight around Magnus’s arm and their faces less than an inch apart.

“You’re on,” Magnus purred back with a smile on his lips and his heart pumping furiously against his ribs.

The days flew by. Sixteen days, seventeen chaperoned dates, and they never even kissed. They talked, and played, and, on one memorable occasion, Magnus managed to pull Alec into a waltz in the middle of the street when they passed by a busker playing My Darling Clementine on a violin.

Before Magnus knew it, their last full day in Fort Lauderdale had rolled around. Tomorrow they would pack their bags and take the shuttle bus to the airport.

Alicante’s senior class had decided to celebrate their last day in town by taking over some of the fire pits along the beach and throwing one hell of a party.

Magnus was thrilled.

He and Alec had started their date this afternoon by going shopping for all the necessary supplies to make s’mores. When they had arrived at the beach, Magnus had secured them seats near one of the large, crackling fires.

Everyone was having a great time, playing around on the beach and in the water, talking, or making out like they were all alone in the world and not surrounded by tons of people on all sides.

Magnus would have loved to make out like that with Alec, but it still felt too damn weird when Cat was sitting on the other side of the fire, roasting marshmallows and watching them like the twenty-first century version of a Victorian era governess.

He turned to Alec, intending to make a joke about just that, but it got stuck in his throat at the scowl on Alec’s face. He hid it quickly enough, but Magnus wasn’t fooled.

“You hate this,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment behind a kind smile.

Alec closed his eyes and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding genuinely contrite. “I’m just not a fan of big parties.”

Magnus furrowed his brows. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alec shrugged, staring at the marshmallow roasting on the tip of his skewer just outside the fire.

“Because you love them.”

Magnus blinked. He did love a good party, but that didn’t mean he expected Alec to suffer in silence on his behalf.

It hit him about a second later. Alec was putting up with this party for him. The only reason he was here was to make Magnus happy.

“Come on,” he said, getting up and taking Alec’s skewer from him. “Let’s get out of here.”

He stuck both their marshmallow sticks upright in the sand and offered his hand, leaning back to counter the extra weight as Alec grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet.

When he tried to let go, Alec’s fingers laced through his instead and tightened their grip.

Magnus looked up from their linked hands with raised brows and a feeling in his stomach like he’d just tipped over the bend of the steepest drop on a roller coaster.

Alec was looking at him furtively with a lopsided smile. His hand felt warm and a little damp from holding the metal skewer over the fire.

“Is this okay?”

_Is it okay if I never give it back?_

Magnus had just enough self-control to not say that out loud. Instead, he pressed his lips together and confirmed with a non-verbal hum and a nod.

They were honest to goodness taking a stroll along the beach, holding hands, at sunset.

Magnus didn’t know whether he should laugh, cry, or ask to be committed to a mental ward for observation, just in case his desperate brain had flaked out on him and was making this up.

The loud crinkling from an aluminum foil bag somewhere behind them destroyed any sense of delusion.

Magnus glanced over his shoulder with a grimace.

Cat was still following them around at a short distance. She gave him an apologetic look over the top of an open bag of chips and silently mouthed the word ‘sorry’.

Magnus turned back around with a frustrated scowl, but Alec just squeezed his hand and smiled as if he couldn’t care less they were the evening entertainment for an audience of one.

They came up to the pier just as the sun started to drop into the ocean. The calm water shimmered around the wooden beams in soft shades of purple and orange.

Magnus made a snap decision.

Without letting go of Alec’s hand, he turned his whole body around, squared his shoulders, and raised his free hand toward Cat in a wordless command to stop.

When she raised her brows and blinked in question, he pointed at her, pointed at the sand right in front of her pretty strap sandals, and meaningfully raised his chin.

She rolled her eyes and plopped herself down in the sand with her legs crossed and her chip bag tucked into the small groove between them. Then she extended her hand in a silent go ahead.

He blew her a quick kiss and turned back around to find Alec leaning toward him with his eyes half-closed and a lost expression on his face.

Magnus tugged on his hand and started to head down the pier at a leisurely pace.

Walking quietly side by side, unsupervised for the first time in two weeks, Magnus found himself just looking at Alec.

His handsome features looked softer in the warm orange glow of sunset and there was a pensive smile on his lips. He was still holding Magnus’s hand, their fingers laced loosely between them.

At the end of the long wooden walkway, Magnus let go first and leaned over the railing, looking out toward the blazing horizon.

Alec stood beside him as close as he could get and wrapped his arm around him.

It was the perfect spot, at the perfect moment.

Magnus breathed in the salty ocean air, breathed out, and accepted the fact that he was hopelessly in love.

It finally sunk in that he was currently living in a Nicholas Sparks novel.

The thought made his stomach drop. Novels ended. So did spring romances at the beach.

They started to turn at the same time, and Magnus felt Alec’s hand slide across his back and come to rest on his hip.

Alec was leaning toward him with his eyes half-closed and a lost expression, moving in for a kiss.

Magnus had been waiting for this for the past two weeks. His eyes drifted closed and their lips were almost touching. He opened his mouth on a shaky breath.

“I need to know something.”

He cursed himself for ruining the moment, but he needed to know.

Alec stopped, opened his eyes, and pulled back. “What is it?”

Magnus licked his lips and made himself ask. “What happens when we get back to Alicante?”

Alec blinked. “What do you mean?”

Magnus took a deep breath and made himself ask the question that was burning him up from the inside.

“When we’re back at school, and everything goes back to normal. What happens to us?”

Alec’s brows furrowed deeply over the bridge of his nose. For a moment he looked disgruntled, like he was having some sort of internal argument, but then his expression cleared up into a determined scowl. He’d clearly made up his mind.

“This isn’t a spring fling, Magnus,” he said. “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Magnus blinked.

There was so much to unpack from that statement it could fill his closet and then some. He had so many questions, so many doubts. How would Alec deal with the gossip mill at school? What would happen when their parents found out? Not to mention, they were only a couple of months away from graduation. They should really sit down and talk about this.

Instead, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “You mean it?”

Alec set his jaw and nodded firmly. “I promise.”

Before he could second-guess himself, Magnus buried his fingers in Alec’s hair and kissed him.

They fit together perfectly like the rough edges of a broken plate. When Alec’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him closer, it felt just like the movies. The world could have exploded around their ears and he wouldn’t have noticed.


	31. Final Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks. The final chapter. I know it took me forever to get this out, and I'm sorry if I had people worried. Everything is okay. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this behemoth from start to finish, all of you who left kudos and comments along the way. You're amazing!
> 
> Now go on and get your tissues out, or square your shoulders and put your brave face on, or both, or anything in between. This is goodbye.
> 
> ###### 

The Spring Formal was every bit as overblown as the other three quarterly dances at Alicante Academy and drowning in fake blossoms for the occasion. The sheer amount of pastel colored silk floating through the three combined gymnasium halls in the shape of decorations and formal wear was nauseating.

Raphael wouldn’t have bothered showing up if he hadn’t been outvoted by Simon, Magnus, and Cat. However, he had drawn the line when it came to their outfits. No pastel colors.

He had barely stopped Simon from committing fashion sacrilege with a powder blue tuxedo. Raphael had shepherded him toward light gray three-piece suits instead. In deference to Cat’s dress, he had allowed the vibrant peach colored waistcoats.

Magnus had abandoned their common color theme entirely in favor of coordinating outfits with his date for the dance.

“I still can’t believe he ditched us.” Cat glared across the dancefloor at Magnus and Alec. They were doing something that could barely be described as dancing. “For that.”

Her fearsome scowl wasn’t diminished by her gorgeous makeup or the professional updo of hundreds of tiny braids woven into elaborate swirls at the crown of her head. For all that she was wearing a stunning mermaid gown, her posture screamed furious military officer in full uniform.

Simon snickered and wrapped a consoling arm around her silk-wrapped shoulder. “You can’t really say you didn’t see this coming. I mean, we’ve been chaperoning their dates for like a month now, and we all went shopping for our outfits together.”

“Don’t remind me.” Cat’s glower shifted into a pout as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I wanted it to be just the four of us.”

Raphael couldn’t blame her. He would have preferred suffering through this shindig without having to watch Magnus off in la-la land, mooning over Alec Lightwood.

Ever since spring break, the newly minted couple had been inseparable, and, thanks to Simon’s brilliant plan, Raphael, Simon, and Cat had been tied to front row seats for most of the show.

Cat had suffered more than anyone, because she had been the only one around to do the chaperoning for the first couple of weeks in Florida while he and Simon had been stuck in Connecticut and New York respectively.

Raphael couldn’t imagine what it had been like for her. Just thinking about trailing after Lily, relegated to a silent third wheel, all the while worrying that the guy might break his best friend’s heart again…

The first time he had been stuck playing chaperone, watching the cutesy couple stroll across the grounds, holding hands and making googly eyes at each other, Raphael had been nothing but suspicious.

It had taken a lot of cajoling on Simon’s part to keep him on board with the plan. He had actually caught himself thinking he would rather play Agricola every day for the rest of his life, despite the fact that he never managed to beat Simon at the infernal game.

Even now, a part of him was still waiting for Alec Lightwood to show his true colors. However, he had to grudgingly admit it looked like the guy was making a sincere effort this time around.

_Doesn’t mean I have to like him._

Raphael shoved his hands into his pockets and hummed in agreement with Cat’s complaint.

“Chin up.” Simon bumped his shoulder. “Remember, we’ll have Magnus to ourselves every other day for two hours starting on Monday until finals.” He turned his head to look at Cat. “And you two are going to be roommates at Columbia.”

It was weird to think they only had a couple more months together before Magnus and Cat graduated and left for college. Raphael couldn’t imagine Alicante Academy without the two of them.

While the thought made his frown deepen, Cat’s expression lightened up with a victorious grin.

“And don’t think I won’t rub it in Lightwood’s face every chance I get,” she said gleefully.

“Cat, come on,” Simon jostled her shoulders with an admonishing frown.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Her tone was sickeningly sweet. “I’ll be perfectly charming about it.” She raised her voice to a cringey falsetto. “Magpie, what do you think of these comforters for _our _beds? How about these new throw pillows for _our_ sofa? Oh, let’s go out for dinner this weekend, just you, me, and the boys.” Her voice dropped back to its normal tone as she added, “That’s you two, of course.”

Raphael scowled. “No.”

“No?” Cat asked incredulously, leaning around Simon to gape at him with a wounded glare.

He writhed his shoulders, grimacing at the idea of being drawn into the fight between Cat and Magnus that would inevitably ensue if she insisted on antagonizing Alec Lightwood. 

Simon grinned. “I think what he means is, please don’t drag us into your passive-aggressive revenge fantasies. It’s going to be hard enough that we’ll hardly ever get to see you guys anymore.”

Over the past couple of months, Simon had started to develop a habit of interpreting his taciturn responses with a lengthy quip. It reminded Raphael of Lily, who used to step in whenever he lacked the words to express himself. Of course, Simon’s tongue wasn’t nearly as sharp as Lily’s, but he had the same uncanny knack for guessing Raphael’s thoughts correctly most of the time.

Raphael smirked and pulled one hand out of his pockets to brush it across Simon’s back in a silent show of gratitude.

Simon’s grin widened as he leaned into the touch. “Besides, I’m team Malec.”

Raphael delivered a solid smack to the center of his back. At the same time, Cat turned her betrayed glower onto Simon and threw his arm off her shoulders.

“Oh, hell no,” she said, aiming a threatening finger at Simon. “There is no team Malec. There is only team Magnus, all the way. And if that fickle emo boy ever breaks his heart again, I’m gonna bury him where no one will ever find him. Alive.”

Simon gaped. Then he tilted his head at Raphael with a disapproving frown. “Seriously?”

Raphael slipped his hand back into his pocket and shrugged. Personally, he would probably beat Lightwood into a bloody pulp and leave him where he dropped, but Cat’s version of the shovel talk was certainly in the ball park of possibilities.

“Come on, guys!” Simon wheedled. “You can’t hold a grudge forever.”

Raphael opened his mouth to disagree, but he didn’t get that far.

“Even if you could,” Simon insisted, “it’s not right. Alec has asked for forgiveness and he’s done his best to atone.”

“Don’t start.” Raphael narrowed his eyes and scowled harder. “A handful of visits to temple over spring break don’t make you an expert on the old testament.”

Simon had confided in him that he had started attending services over spring break to show gratitude for everything his grandmother Helen had done for them. Raphael had been surprised, but he was glad to see Simon take an interest in his own religion.

“I’m just saying.” Simon held up one hand in supplication.

Raphael sighed. He knew Simon was right, but it was difficult to let bygones be bygones when he still vividly remembered every single time he had witnessed Magnus curled up in a ball of misery because of Alec Lightwood.

Cat snorted loudly on Simon’s other side. “Well, I’m just saying, too.” She turned around and held out both her hands. “Now, dance with me or I’ll be forced to break up the happy couple anyway.”

Simon rolled his eyes and grabbed her hands. “All you had to do was ask. No need for threats.”

Raphael watched him whisk her off for a spin around the dancefloor with a smile.

Becky had clearly taught Simon a few new moves over spring break. Simon raised Cat’s arms, guiding her through a complicated back and forth twirl, pushed her into a low dip and quickly kissed her nose before he pulled her back up.

Raphael snickered when Cat squeaked in startled panic on her way down and smacked Simon upside the head the moment she was back on her own two feet.

“So, how come you’re not the least bit jealous of her?”

The caustic voice right beside him almost made him jump, but Raphael managed to keep his hands in his pockets and forced his expression to remain blank.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please.” Maia Roberts rolled her big brown eyes and graced him with an unimpressed curl of her upper lip. “We both know if Simon did that to me, you’d be fuming for days.”

Raphael shrugged. He couldn’t deny the truth. It was just different when it was Cat. He didn’t feel jealous because there was absolutely nothing to worry about. Simon dancing with Cat was the same as Raphael dancing with Simon’s older sister, Becky.

“She’s family.”

When Maia responded with a non-verbal noise in her throat, Raphael hoped that meant she was done talking and would go away. Instead, she turned around and held out her hand to him.

“Dance with me?”

He stared for a moment, raising his brows at the delicate fingers with their long, pointy nails. Her pale green nail polish matched her skin-tight mini dress.

“Come on,” she said, with an impatient beckoning motion. “I won’t bite.”

He had no idea why she wanted to dance with him, but he could tell she wouldn’t back down easily, so he grasped the outstretched hand and pushed her backwards toward the dancefloor.

“One dance,” he grumbled.

“We’ll see,” she said, seeming completely unfazed as she dropped her free hand onto his shoulder and followed his lead. “I mean, there’s still the Summer Slummer, and then there’ll be four more of these next year.”

Raphael scowled. “I don’t plan on attending all of them.”

Maia scrunched her nose. “You’re right. We can skip Winter Wonderland. Too much glitter.”

He was not happy to discover that they shared the same opinion on anything. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He made a non-committal noise.

She exhaled an exasperated huff and swatted his shoulder. “Man, you really have to stop being jealous. Simon never even looked at me that way.”

Raphael bestowed her with a skeptical glare. “He took you on a date on his birthday.”

“Did not!”

When Raphael tried to pull back, Maia dug her nails into his arm and forced him to continue dancing or create a scene by tearing himself loose.

“It wasn’t a date,” she said insistently when he relented. “I wanted it to be, but he was too busy pining over you to even notice that much.”

“Really?”

Raphael almost missed a step. Simon had never told him the whole story in detail. He suspected Simon had been purposely vague to assuage his jealousy. Unfortunately, it had had the opposite effect. 

Maia rolled her eyes. “Yes, really. He only asked me to the movies as a thank you for cheering him up. Apparently, someone broke his heart by making a face when he kissed him.” She raised her neatly sculpted eyebrows over an accusatory glare.

Raphael’s hackles went up in defense. “He ran off before I could—” He snapped his mouth shut before he said too much. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Obviously,” Maia drawled. “But he didn’t know that at the time, and you were putting out enough mixed signals to make a seasoned air traffic controller throw up their hands.”

He was about to protest, but she squeezed his fingers hard enough to hurt and barreled right on.

“Anyway, the point is Simon never looked at me as anything other than a friend. And if that’s not good enough, you should know that I’m dating Jordan Kyle now, and we are totally into each other. So, is there any way you could finally bury the hatchet? Because Simon is the only one who is into sci-fi like I am, and he will never agree to hang out for an all-night Blade Runner marathon as long as you still hate my guts.” 

Raphael suppressed an involuntary chuckle behind pursed lips. That nonstop ramble could have come straight out of Simon’s mouth.

Maia was giving him what she might have thought was a winning smile. To him, it just looked on the brink of manic.

Then it occurred to him.

“When would he go to an all-night Blade Runner marathon with you?”

Maia’s eyes went wide before she cringed and bit her lip. “Oops.”

Raphael stopped dancing and tightened his grip on her to prevent her from getting away. 

She lowered her head with a long sigh. “So, I’m from Hoboken.” 

He acknowledged the insinuation behind the non-sequitur announcement with a low grunt. Maia lived in New Jersey, practically across the river from Simon. It would have been easy for them to see each other whenever they wanted during spring break.

“He didn’t tell me you were hanging out over spring break.”

“We didn’t,” she said quickly. “Not really, anyway. We might have bumped into each other at Java Jones a couple times.” She lifted her hand from his shoulder and pinched the bridge of her nose with a frustrated growl that sounded like a short-tempered small dog. “This is so not how I wanted this to go.”

Raphael raised his eyebrows. “How did you imagine it would go?”

She had basically just admitted that she had hung out with his boyfriend in secret. He shook his head, relaxed his hold, and used his grip on her other hand to lead her back into the dance.

“You’re lucky I trust Simon completely,” he grumbled.

“I know,” she groaned, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. She relaxed her stiff posture and put her hand back on his shoulder as they resumed dancing. “I just really wanted to clear the air because Simon is a great friend, and I don’t want to miss out on that because of stupid, unnecessary jealousy.”

“Specifically, you don’t want to miss out on an all-night sci-fi movie marathon alone with him.”

“Hey,” she said, “you are more than welcome to be there, too, if you can manage not to bitch about bad science the whole time.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I would do that?”

Maia snorted. “Simon talks about you a lot.” A sly grin stretched her lips. “Probably more than you’re comfortable with, but it’s why I know you’re actually a really good guy, and why I’m going out on a limb here with the whole diplomacy thing, which, you may have noticed, I’m not very good at.”

He huffed. “Yeah, I noticed.” 

If Maia had approached him like this before Christmas, he wouldn’t even have agreed to dance with her, let alone given his okay for her to spend a whole night alone with Simon.

A lot had changed since then. After everything they had been through, with Lily, and Simon’s mom, and Rosa, he just knew that Simon would never hurt him like that. Even if Maia tried anything, he was one hundred percent sure Simon would rebuff her.

“So,” Maia said, stretching the single vowel to the breaking point.

Raphael sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Maia actually bounced on her feet, nearly stepping on his toes. “Can we tell him now?”

She didn’t wait for his answer before she took the lead and maneuvered them over to where Simon was still dancing with Cat.

“Mind if we swap for a sec? Thanks.”

Maia all but yanked Simon into her arms and spun him away in a move that ended with Cat flying into Raphael’s arms with an outraged squawk.

“Rude!” Cat huffed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I have no idea why Simon hangs out with her.”

Raphael shrugged, picked up her right hand in a proper dancing posture and led them into a smooth turn.

“They’re both nerds,” he said reluctantly.

Maia would probably even enjoy those tabletop roleplay games that Simon kept pulling out from nowhere and pushing on him.

“Aren’t you worried?” Cat craned her neck to look over her shoulder at Simon and Maia.

Raphael followed her gaze and made a non-committal noise in his throat.

Simon stopped dancing in the middle of a step and whooped, “Awesome,” before he twirled Maia right back in their direction. “Swap again.”

This time, Raphael ended up with both arms full of Simon, who was grinning so broadly you would think they had just released a new addition to his favorite zombie board game.

“You’re the best!” Simon grabbed his face and kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Thank you! Man, now I don’t want to wait ‘til summer. I’ll have to email Mom and see if she’ll sign me out for a weekend soon. Do you think there’s any chance Camille would let you come, too? I’m sure you can stay with Clary and Luke for a weekend. Or maybe you could stay with Lily? Hey, is Lily into sci-fi? I never asked—”

“Slow down,” Raphael said emphatically, wrapping one hand around the back of Simon’s neck to hold him still and make eye contact. “You’re going to explode.”

“Whatever.” Simon shook his head, still grinning like a mad man. “Nobody ever died from exploding into Skittles.” He looped his arms over Raphael’s shoulders and brought their foreheads together. “Grouch.”

Raphael grumbled wordlessly as he wrapped his arms loosely around Simon’s waist.

The music changed to a slow song. Some sappy pop tune with a ridiculously high-pitched melody. He tried to pull away, but Simon locked him in place with his wrists crossed behind his neck and started to sway them back and forth.

“This is nice.”

It had almost sounded convincing, except for the fact that Simon was cringing at the music as if somebody had wiggled a wet finger in his ear.

“Yeah, right,” Raphael scoffed. “It’s making your ears bleed.”

“Okay, the song is awful,” Simon admitted before his face took on an obstinate expression. “But it’s still nice to dance with my boyfriend. My ears are a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

Raphael raised his brows. “I thought you were planning on a career in music?”

Simon sniffed. “Beethoven was deaf, and he managed.”

Raphael pretended to consider the ridiculous argument for a total of two seconds before he quirked his brows with a smirk.

“You should still minor in accounting, just to be safe.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “My mom’s not here. You don’t have to suck up and take her side.”

Raphael glowered. “Have you ever known me to suck up to anyone?”

Simon squirmed under his glare.

“Guys!”

Cat stepped up between them and separated them with one hand on each of their shoulders. She looked anxious.

“What?” Simon asked distractedly before he turned around and got a good look at her face. “What’s wrong?”

“I lost Magnus and Alec.”

Simon frowned. “What do you mean you lost them?”

Raphael groaned and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Couldn’t they have one damn school dance without drama?

Cat pointed to the space where they’d last seen Alec and Magnus dancing together.

“They were right there,” she said, emphasizing the last word. “I turned around for one minute, and now they’re gone.”

Raphael sighed. “They obviously ran off to go make out somewhere.”

“It’s against the rules!” Cat snapped.

Simon shrugged. “We said tonight was officially the end of chaperoning.”

“We said after tonight. After.” She scowled. “We have to find them. Now.”

Raphael let himself be dragged along when Cat grabbed them by the hand and set off on her mission. She made Simon check the boys’ bathroom and ordered him to check the locker rooms.

A sense of déjà vu rolled through him as he stepped through the brightly lit area with the lockers and benches, headed toward the dark showers. He glanced at the corner where he had found Simon seven months ago.

He remembered sitting on the cold hard tiles, forcing out a terrible, off-key version of The Ants Go Marching while combing his fingers through Simon’s hair, trying to help him calm down.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Raphael shook his head at himself and went back outside.

Cat was standing right in front of the door with an expectant look on her face. Simon stood beside her with a resigned expression.

Raphael shrugged. “They’re not in there. Sorry.”

Cat made a frustrated noise and led them back toward the gym hall. As soon as they entered, she started to ask random people if they’d seen Magnus and Alec. All she got for her effort were shrugs and nonplussed looks.

Helen Blackthorn and Aline Penhallow were standing at one end of the buffet tables near the equipment room. Aline looked irritated. She stared into the crowd through narrowed dark eyes, with her slim black brows furrowed deeply over her nose and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her girlfriend Helen looked nervous next to her, twiddling her fingers around her golden blonde hair and chewing on her lip.

Cat marched up to the two girls like an angry officer about to dress down a couple of wayward soldiers.

“Aline! Helen!”

Helen jumped like a skittish animal while Aline’s irritation visibly ratcheted up a notch.

“Have you seen Magnus and Alec?” Cat demanded. “We can’t find them.” 

Aline moved her gaze over Cat’s shoulder to include him and Simon in her glare and raised her brows.

Raphael could feel Simon’s tension radiate off him and shifted a step closer to him while he raised his hands in supplication, indicating they wanted no part of the drama.

Aline sniffed and sucked air through her teeth. “Saw way more than I wanted to—”

A sharp jab from Helen’s elbow cut off anything else she might have said.

“They were over there.” Helen pointed back at the dancefloor where Magnus and Alec had been dancing before they had disappeared. “I’m sure they didn’t go far. Maybe just, um, send them a text?”

Cat rolled her eyes. “What do you think was the first thing I did? They didn’t reply.”

“Oh,” Helen said, chewing on her lip. “Maybe they just haven’t seen it yet. Maybe, just give them … five minutes!”

The blonde had raised her voice on the last couple of words and had turned her head suspiciously toward the door to the equipment room behind her.

Raphael groaned. He exchanged a knowing look with Simon who ducked his head and stifled a snicker behind his hand.

Cat stared at Helen askance.

Aline huffed and shook her head at her girlfriend. “Oh, honey. I love you, but you are a terrible liar.” She took a few steps toward the equipment room door and banged her fist on it. “Hey, guys. Time’s up. You’re busted.”

“Shove off, Penhallow!” Magnus’s voice was barely audible from the other side. “Find another spot!”

Cat’s jaw dropped. Then her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Magnus Bane! Get your butt out here, right now!”

Raphael decided he’d had enough. If Cat was going to create a scene, she could do it without them. He grabbed Simon by the elbow and pulled him away.

Simon only stumbled a little before he caught up and trotted along beside him.

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk.”

Behind them, Cat and Magnus started bickering, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, Aline Penhallow’s voice was also in the mix.

Simon looked back over his shoulder and cringed, speeding up his steps as they headed for the exit.

“Yeah, okay. Good idea.”

The air was crisp and quiet as they stepped out onto the gravel path in front of the gym building. Raphael took a deep breath and let it go slowly, half expecting to be engulfed in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke. When nothing happened, he glanced toward the stairs leading down to the maintenance area, relieved to find them empty.

Simon followed his gaze with a puzzled expression. “Were you looking for someone?”

Raphael waved it off with a shake of his head. “Just dumb and dumber. They used to sit down there and smoke weed.”

Simon’s brows crinkled for a moment before his expression cleared up.

“Oh, Verlac and Morgenstern.” He grimaced. “They’re going to be insufferable next year.”

Raphael snorted. “We won’t have to deal with them as long as we stay away from the old stables.”

When he and Simon had declined to take over Club Chaos, Magnus had turned around and handed the proverbial keys to the only remaining, and simultaneously the worst possible, candidates. Between Jonathan Morgenstern and Sebastian Verlac, Raphael gave it no longer than the first week of next school year before the faculty found out and tore down the old stables for good.

Simon pouted. “I’m gonna miss movie nights.”

Raphael blinked. He had no idea why they would stop movie nights just because they could no longer watch on the big screen at the old stables.

“You know there’s a TV in the common room of every dorm building, right?”

“Seriously?” Simon gaped as if this was complete news to him.

Raphael chuckled. “What did you think was inside those enormous oak cabinets?”

“I don’t know!” Simon shrugged with his arms spread wide and started to walk off down the gravel path. “I was too afraid I’d break something to go snooping around.”

“Ah.” Raphael didn’t bother to hide his amused grin and fell into step beside him. “Where are we going?”

“Just up the hill to the overlook.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, there’s an overlook.”

Simon snickered. “Yup, bronze commemorative plate and everything. It’s a really nice place. Magnus took me up there when he told me about his dad. We had a very Disney moment.”

Raphael raised his brows. “Did you sing a romantic duet and kiss in front of a sunset?”

“No!” Simon stumbled over his own feet. “That’s not how I meant it! We were spoofing off the Lion King. Nothing happened, I swear.”

He snickered. “I’m just messing with you.”

Simon made a disgruntled noise and shoved his hands into his back pockets.

“Not funny,” he grumbled. “You just got over being jealous of Maia. I thought you were starting all over again with Magnus.”

Raphael accepted the well-deserved dig with a low grumble that might have contained the word ‘sorry’. Simon’s smile in response was brighter than the street lamps lighting their path.

“Apology accepted.”

The overlook was a very pretty spot even in the dark. He was surprised it wasn’t overrun with couples making out. As it was, they were the only ones up there, looking out over the illuminated grounds of Alicante Academy at night.

Simon dropped heavily onto the low marble bench and sprawled out his legs in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His top foot started to twitch almost immediately.

Raphael sat down beside him and waited quietly for whatever was causing the twitching to come out.

Simon heaved a sigh. “I’m going to miss Cat and Magnus.”

“Me too.”

They fell quiet for a long moment, but Simon’s foot didn’t slow down. It was obvious there was something else on his mind. Raphael shifted his leg and tapped the toe of his loafer against the quickly bouncing heel.

“Do you think they’re going to make it?” Simon blurted.

His brows furrowed. “Magnus and Cat? Of course. They’ll be fine.”

He couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t be. Those two had been best friends for a long time. They were going to the same college, moving into the same dorm room. While they were no doubt at each other’s throats at this very moment, they would always be Magnus and Cat.

“Sorry.” Simon shook his head. “I was thinking about Magnus and Alec.”

“Oh.”

Raphael huffed. That was a whole different story. According to Magnus, Alec Lightwood was going to move to New York City on his own, get a job, and attend city college. Something about disowning his mother before she could disown him.

Magnus had admitted to Raphael under sworn secrecy that they were planning to move in together as soon as Magnus was allowed to live off campus in sophomore year. If the couple made it that long, the ensuing drama with Cat was guaranteed to be off the charts.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Simon bit his lip. “I hope they do.”

_Of course, you do._

He ducked his head to hide a smile. Simon was a hopeless romantic. He had the biggest heart of anyone Raphael had ever known. It was one of the things he loved most about him.

He shrugged. “We’ll find out when we get there.”

They still had one more year at the academy, and he was stuck in Connecticut with Camille until his 18th birthday, but Raphael knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was going back to the city as soon as he was legally able to rip his inheritance out of Camille’s clutches.

“But whatever happens with them, we are getting our own place.”

He loved Magnus and Cat dearly, but between Magnus’s explosive chaos and Cat’s military devotion to order, there was no way he wanted either of them as roommates.

Simon’s foot stopped bouncing. He shifted closer until their shoulders were touching.

“We are?”

Raphael grunted resolutely. “Just imagine what would happen if Magnus mixed up the pieces to your board games or if Cat tried to alphabetize your record collection.”

He actually shuddered at the thought. Simon was a little bit finicky when it came to keeping his music organized by genre and era. He was downright terrifying about keeping his board games in pristine condition.

“No. We’re definitely gonna be better off on our own.”

“Yeah,” Simon said quietly. “I guess we are.”

Simon was giving him a funny look. It took him a second to recognize it, and, by the time he did, it was already happening.

The kiss was slow and gentle, just the warm pressure of Simon’s lips against his for an extended moment before Simon pulled away and slouched against his side.

“What was that for?”

“For being you. And for caring about my stuff, even if you don’t get it.”

“Of course, I care.”

He could feel Simon’s smile against his shoulder. He rolled his eyes and combed his fingers through the curls at the back of Simon’s head.

The air had a bite to it, but sitting close together kept them from freezing in their suits. The sky was clear enough to see the stars, and the only background sounds came from the wind rustling through the trees.

No noise. No drama. Just the two of them sitting together quietly with a pretty view.

“Now, this is nice,” he muttered under his breath. 

The weeks following the spring formal passed in a blur of classes and study hall, prepping for their final exams during every free hour. Simon was still struggling with Hamiltonian mechanics in physics, and trying to get Magnus to sit still long enough to absorb anything from a textbook was a challenge. Cat spent a fair amount of time literally sitting on top of him to keep him from running off.

Aside from that, Raphael still had to attend to his duties at the chapel with Father Aldertree. The strain in their relationship had not eased, and, in fact, had only gotten worse when Raphael had refused to go back to the nursing home after Rosa.

He still hadn’t shared his decision about not joining the seminary or addressed the father’s blatant disregard toward Simon. With only three weeks left until the end of the school year, he figured it was time to put the matter to rest.

After finishing his Sunday Mass duties, he went straight to Father Aldertree’s office. The father was sitting back behind his behemoth metal desk, hands folded over his stomach as he looked up from the pile of paperwork scattered across the surface.

“Raphael,” he said with an unpleasant ring of surprise in his tone. “Did you need something?”

“Do you have a moment to talk?”

Raphael held on to the door behind him. He got the distinct feeling he wasn’t as welcome as he had used to be.

“Of course. My door is always open.” The father motioned toward the visitor chair. “Have a seat.”

He slipped into the chair, unable to relax as the dark brown eyes of the priest rested on him with a sharp gaze. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

Raphael cleared his throat and got right to the point. “I’ve made my decision about joining the seminary. I don’t think it’s the right path for me.”

Father Aldertree lowered his chin. His lips pursed to a thin, hard line inside the circle of his dark beard before they relaxed on a weary sigh.

“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear that, but I am truly sorry.” His gaze burned under furrowed dark brows. “I wish you would make a better choice.”

Raphael could feel the priest’s disappointment rest on him like a heavy weight. It was stifling and cruel, and he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

“It’s the best choice for me,” he said quietly.

Father Aldertree scoffed, “Is it really? To throw away God’s love, to abandon him. Is that really the best choice?”

Raphael gaped, completely blindsided by the accusation. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend ignorance, Raphael. You’ve chosen your relationship with Simon Lewis over your relationship with God.”

“Are you…”

He could feel his temper start to slip through his fingers as simmering wrath balled his hands into fists. Raphael took a slow deep breath and then another one. He reined in his temper with every ounce of self-control he had in him and started over in a calmer tone.

“With all due respect, I disagree. Simon would never make me choose between him and my faith, and I don’t believe God did either.”

His hand reached for the cross that rested warm against his collarbone. Simon had given it to him for his birthday, and he’d been wearing it every day since then.

“You’re the only one who asked me to make a choice, and I made it.” Raphael got up and pushed his chair in. “I’m sorry if that disappoints you, and I’ll understand if you don’t want me to perform altar services any longer.”

Father Aldertree stared at him with disapproval etched into every line of his face.

“You’ve made your choice clear. Do not expect me to take your confession or let you partake in communion from now on. I can’t do either in good conscience until you’re ready to accept your sin and repent.”

Raphael wasn’t surprised. He had known there would be ramifications when he accepted his feelings for Simon. He had honestly been astonished that Father Aldertree had turned a blind eye for as long as he had.

“I understand,” he said calmly, “but I hope you don’t expect me to stop attending Mass.”

If he had to sit through disappointed looks and uncomfortably personal sermons for the next school year, he was more than capable of enduring that much.

Father Aldertree responded with a thin-lipped smile. “I will inform your head of dormitory that your extracurricular services here are no longer required. Good day.”

Raphael nodded. “Good day, father.”

Simon was waiting for him on the gravel path when he came out at the front of the chapel. His head snapped up the moment that Raphael stepped through the heavy wooden door. The happy smile on his face crumpled to a frown as soon as their eyes met.

“What happened?”

Raphael grimaced. He had really hoped he’d had his expression under control.

“It’s nothing,” he said with a shrug as they fell into step, walking toward the dorms. “I told Father Aldertree that I won’t be joining the seminary. He didn’t approve. Relieved me of my duties.”

Simon stopped dead in his tracks. “You were going to join the seminary?” 

Raphael cringed. He had honestly forgotten that he’d never actually talked to Simon about that. He sighed and shook his head.

“I wasn’t,” he said firmly. “Father Aldertree suggested it, but I decided it’s not right for me.”

Simon gaped. “When was this?”

Raphael gritted his teeth. He could tell from Simon’s tone that this was going to turn into an argument if he didn’t choose his words wisely.

“Back in October.”

To be more precise, Father Aldertree had brought up the idea on the same day that Simon had kissed him and subsequently had run off because he had apparently ‘made a face’.

He remembered bits and pieces of that day. Meeting Rosa for the first time. The portrait picture of her brother, Angel, that was now resting with a few of her other belongings in a box under his bed. Listening to Father Aldertree tell the tragic story of receiving his calling to priesthood. Simon’s face just before he had leaned down and pressed their lips together.

“Seriously?” Simon was shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s May!”

“Yeah, well.” Raphael shoved his hands into his pockets and shot him a pointed look. “Stuff happened.”

Simon jerked back. His face contorted in a way that Raphael didn’t like one bit. It was the same expression he had worn when he had thought Raphael would break up with him to be with Lily.

“I happened,” he said desolately.

Raphael clenched is jaw. “We happened.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “And then the whole drama with Magnus and Lightwood. And then the Christmas holidays. Then Rosa. There was always a ton of stuff going on, and I just didn’t get around to telling him until now.”

He willed Simon to understand that the delay wasn’t because his decision was some sort of big sacrifice he was making. Yes, there were ramifications to being with Simon, but he’d made his choice back in October and he didn’t regret it.

Simon exhaled a long sigh and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

Clearly, Simon still didn’t get it. Raphael’s brows furrowed and he clenched his jaw harder.

“For what?” he asked pointedly.

Simon’s gaze was glued to the ground as he stuffed his hands inside the back pockets of his jeans.

“Ruining things.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Raphael said firmly.

Simon snorted. “Come on. Did you really think I didn’t notice? He’s been acting like a dick ever since I started picking you up from church, and now he’s pretty much kicking you out.”

“Simon.” Raphael closed the couple steps of distance between them, trying to get Simon to look him in the eyes. “He can refuse to administer rites to me, and he can kick me off his service, but he can’t kick me out of my faith.”

Simon didn’t respond other than to make a low grumbling noise. He still hadn’t wiped that remorseful expression off his face, either.

Raphael sighed. “I don’t need to be a priest to believe in God or to serve him.” He reached out and curled one hand around the back of Simon’s neck. “I love you, and I love God, and if Father Aldertree can’t reconcile that, it’s his problem, not ours.”

To make his point, he leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against the grim line of Simon’s mouth.

The gesture had the desired effect. Simon froze for a second, but then he pulled his hands out of his back pockets and wrapped his arms around Raphael’s back. His whole body relaxed as the tension drained out of him.

Raphael let the kiss go on for a moment before he pulled back and rested his forehead against Simon’s.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

Simon’s expression was no longer remorseful. His smile was soft and a bit loopy, like it sometimes got after they kissed. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

Before they knew it, the final exams were behind them. Graduation Day came and went without too much drama. Asmodeus Bane made an appearance, casting a looming shadow over Magnus until they stiffly exchanged their goodbyes on the front lawn just minutes after the graduates had thrown their caps in the air.

Alec Lightwood’s mother had opted not to attend her son’s graduation. Instead, the guy’s estranged dad from California had showed up, accompanied by a living barbie doll wife and a deeply suntanned Isabelle Lightwood.

She looked better. Happier. Nothing like the strung-out junkie that Raphael remembered. He still made sure to keep a solid fifty feet of distance between her and Simon at all times. Forgiveness just didn’t come to him as naturally as it did to Simon. He was working on it.

When he finally met Cat’s parents, Raphael quickly understood where she got her mannerisms. A lot of her serious expressions and military behavior came straight from her father, the general, but Cat’s enthusiastic warmth and unabashed sharing of affection clearly came from her mom.

Mrs. Loss hugged and squeezed everybody in their group at least once between saying hello, congratulating the graduates, and chatting about their plans for the summer. She also kept constant contact with Magnus and Cat, putting a hand on their back or an arm around their shoulders.

When Mrs. Loss ruffled her fingers through Magnus’s hair and fixed his tie, Raphael was reminded of meeting Cat and Magnus on his first full day at Alicante. He noticed with amusement that Magnus didn’t tell Mrs. Loss not to fuss over him. In fact, he seemed to be soaking up the attention.

After graduation, there was not much left to do except to pack for the summer and suffer through the final mandatory assembly on the last day of the school year.

Raphael took a detour to Penhallow Hall to pick up Simon and Magnus, but plans changed when he banged his fist on Magnus’s door and received a grumpy response from Alec Lightwood. He shared a quick exasperated eyeroll with Simon, who shrugged off the whole thing with a grin, before they headed out on their own.

When they bumped into Clary and Jace on their way to the Lightwood Building, Raphael tried his best to ignore the couple’s over the top cutesy antics. He’d heard the story of Jace’s tattoo from Simon, and it was taking everything he had not to make a comment.

Cat was already waiting for them inside the auditorium. She flagged them down from a row toward the middle of the room where she had saved them seats.

While Clary and Jace acted out their own melodramatic version of lovers parting in the aisle so Jace could take his seat up front with the remainder of the ‘eminent eight’, Cat noted the suspicious absence of her best friend with raised brows.

“Where is Magnus?”

Raphael sighed. His best guess was that Magnus was still in his bedroom, nowhere near dressed, in the company of Alec Lightwood.

“You don’t want to know.”

Cat’s lips curled and her eyes narrowed to the point that all you could see were her thick, long lashes.

“I swear,” she growled, “if he shows up to this assembly late, disheveled, and reeking of sex, I’m going to—”

“Love me anyway?” Magnus’s voice was obnoxiously chipper as he trotted up from behind them and spread his arms in a grand gesture. “Look, I made it on time, and I’m not even disheveled.”

Magnus sidled up next to him like an overgrown cat, hooked his chin over his shoulder, and lowered his voice to a rumbling purr that tickled uncomfortably in his ear.

“No guarantees about passing the sniff test.”

“Don’t be crude.”

He was actually surprised that Magnus had managed to get here before the doors closed and that he wasn’t attached at the hip to Alec Lightwood.

“I figured you were going to go sit up front with your boyfriend.” 

Magnus widened his kohl-rimmed eyes. “Right under the nose of our merciless leader?” He affected a dramatic shudder. “Perish the thought.”

Clary, who had finally let Jace go and attached herself to Simon’s arm instead, made a huffy noise under her breath. “You know, she’s not that bad, right? She even invited me to stay with her and Jace at their beach house this summer.”

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” Magnus drawled, batting his lashes at Clary. “You have no idea what horrors lie in wait. It was nice knowing you.”

Clary stuck her tongue out at him, clearly not concerned by the implied threat to her life.

Simon was a different story. Raphael could tell by the wide eyes and deeply crinkled forehead, that he was taking Magnus’s words more seriously than he should. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Simon insisted while Clary dragged him into the row to take their seats.

“I’m afraid not.” Magnus shook his head slowly with a pitiful look. He dropped down next to Raphael and leaned around him to talk to Simon. “She’s dating Imogen Herondale’s precious golden boy. Best case scenario, the dowager is going to forge Clary into a proper debutante. Worst case?” Magnus sucked air through his teeth and winced dramatically.

Raphael rolled his eyes and jostled Magnus off him before he put his hand down on Simon’s jittering knee. 

“Don’t even listen to him,” he grumbled into Simon’s ear. “He’s just messing with you.”

Simon made a skeptical noise in his throat, but his leg settled down.

Clary leaned around from Simon’s other side to glare at Magnus. “Maybe I like the idea of being a debutante.”

Magnus shuddered. “You would. Sweetheart necklines and princess skirts. Urgh.”

“Right, the dresses are the problem.” Cat sniffed from behind Magnus. “Never mind that it’s an archaic tradition going back to the days when ‘introducing women to society’ really just meant putting them on display for sale to the highest bidder.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and leaned back toward his best friend. “Don’t get upset at me. You know how I feel about that stuff. She’s the one who’s into it.” He pointed a thumb in Clary’s direction.

“I don’t care about the stupid tradition,” Clary defended herself. “I just think the dresses are pretty, and it’s probably the only way I can get Jace to learn ballroom dancing.” 

Cat snickered cruelly. “If you wanted an amazing ballroom dancer for a boyfriend, you should have picked Simon.”

“Whoa,” Simon said quickly, “keep me out of this, please.” 

“Seriously,” Clary said, “Simon’s my best friend. That’d be like dating my brother.”

The high-pitched whine of a microphone cut off their bickering. Headmistress Herondale had taken the stage. She clearly still had trouble moderating the volume of her voice, and her makeup was still too dark for her sallow complexion.

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

Raphael sank back in his chair with a sigh as the headmistress launched into her speech and droned on about growth, and change, and broadening horizons, hitting every predictable note in an end of year oration. He was pretty sure he also recognized a couple of keynotes from Cat’s valedictorian speech on Graduation Day.

His eyes trailed over the crowd around him, an ocean of arctic green blazers and mint striped ties, until they landed on the front row by the podium.

The eminent eight had been reduced to seven in the wake of Isabelle Lightwood’s departure in the middle of the school year.

Jace Herondale and Alec Lightwood were sitting next to each other at the end of the row, their heads tilted slightly toward each other.

On Lightwood’s other side, Lydia Branwell flipped her French braid over her shoulder as she turned her head and made a quick comment to Aline Penhallow and Helen Blackthorn behind her.

Sebastian Verlac and Jonathan Morgenstern were sprawled in their seats, mouths flapping, clearly unperturbed by the fact that the headmistress was giving a farewell speech less than ten feet away from them.

Come next year, the duo of dumb and dumber would be all that was left of the eminent eight. The rest of them were all graduating and off to college. Raphael wondered idly who would replace them.

Beside him, Simon’s knee started going again, so he hooked his foot around Simon’s ankle and glanced over to see what had caused it.

Simon was leaning toward Clary, muttering something at her that he barely caught the tail end of.

“…gone, does that mean you’ll come eat at our table next year?” 

His eyes narrowed. He wished Simon had talked to him before extending that invitation. With Jace Herondale out of the picture, he wasn’t sure he wanted Clary to hang around them all the time.

While he’d learned to tolerate her a little better over the Christmas holidays, he certainly hadn’t forgotten her bad habit of manipulating Simon and monopolizing his attention. Like the way she was holding on to Simon’s arm right now.

“If you’ll have me,” she simpered, cutting a hesitant glance in his direction that Raphael knew was as fake as the long, dark lashes she was batting at Simon. “I don’t think Raphael likes me very much.”

He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms over his chest. She was one hundred percent correct, but she was also Simon’s best friend, so if Simon wanted her at their table next year, he would deal with it. 

To his surprise, Simon didn’t immediately rush to reassure Clary. Instead, he snickered and mockingly patted her hand on his arm.

“He loves me, so he’ll put up with you.”

Clary’s mouth dropped open as she pulled her hand away. “That’s harsh.”

Simon shrugged. “Truth hurts.”

Raphael smirked. There was something very satisfying about Simon talking to her like that. It looked like Clary Fray no longer held quite the same sway over him that she once had.

Up on stage, Headmistress Herondale was still droning on.

The sudden pinch of warm skinny fingers on his shoulder and a devilish tickle of hot breath behind his left ear made Raphael cringe.

“I swear her speeches get longer every year,” Magnus’s groaned into his ear. “It’s like she doesn’t know how to end it so she just keeps going and going.”

Raphael snorted and smirked down his shoulder at the mischievous, kohl-rimmed cat-eyes that had thrown him for a loop at the beginning of the school year.

“What happened to not wanting to miss the riveting words of our merciless leader?” he asked mockingly. 

Magnus sniffed dismissively. “The only thing I’m going to miss about this place is you and Simon, cinna-bun.”

Raphael was going to make a comment about the way Magnus spent most of his time these days attached at the hip to Alec Lightwood, but they were interrupted by the loud voice of Headmistress Herondale commanding everyone to rise from their seats.

As they stood up, he felt Simon’s fingers slip between his to take his hand. When he glanced over, he noticed that Simon’s other hand was holding on to Clary’s. The message behind the gesture wasn’t lost on him. He sighed heavily and squeezed once in a wordless sign of acceptance.

Headmistress Herondale finished her speech with open arms and a sweeping look over her assembled students.

“So as you leave Alicante Academy today, some of you for the final time, take with you everything you have learned and know with certainty that the bonds you have formed here will remain strong for the rest of your lives as long as you hold true to them. And always remember that our motto extends not only to flesh and blood but to everyone here at Alicante Academy. Familia Ante Omnia.” 

As the entire student body recited the motto, Magnus rolled his eyes, but he repeated the words faithfully this time, probably because Cat had a strong grip around his elbow and was shooting him the ‘behave’ glare.

While the motto was a little too simplistic to hold up under detailed scrutiny, Raphael couldn’t deny that some of the sentiments in Herondale’s closing words certainly rang true for him.

No one could ever replace the family he had lost, but thanks to Magnus, and Cat, and Simon, he had been able to find true friends, build a new family, and he would always, beyond anything, cherish the ones that he loved.

The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [sort-of-art for "BOYS DON'T CRY" by SABBY1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728319) by [Lerry_Hazel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lerry_Hazel/pseuds/Lerry_Hazel)
  * [Alicante Academy: Battle Royale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956925) by [sabby1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabby1/pseuds/sabby1)


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